Unaffected
by SnarkyFanGirl
Summary: It's been six years since Ginny left Hogwarts, and two years since the defeat of the Dark Lord. War has taken its toll on everyone, and even though everyone has tried to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and move on, many are still in denial and
1. Chapter 1

**Unaffected**

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**SUMMARY:** It's been six years since Ginny left Hogwarts, and two years since the defeat of the Dark Lord. War has taken its toll on everyone, and even though everyone has tried to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives and move on, many are still in denial and shock. Ginny's profession demands that she must remain unaffected, so that she may help anyone else in need. But what happens when the least likely of all people turns to her for help?

**SPOILERS:** SS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, QA, FB

**SHIPS:** This is ultimately going to be a Draco/Ginny ship, although there will be other smaller ones in the process of the story. If this is not your ship, then sail on, my friend! If it _is_ your ship, climb aboard and join me for the ride!

**Author's Note:** This was previously posted to under my previous username. Please feel free to check it (and other stories) out at my web page - cliodnawrites. 150m. com (without a www and without the spaces).

**Chapter One**

Ginny Potter examined her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and then reached up to adjust her lime-green cap. She groaned silently. She had detested the uniform color from the moment she'd first put it on, even though her mother had assured her that it complimented her copper hair. She sighed and brushed some errant strands away from her face, then nodded. This was as good as it was going to get.

She left the ladies' bathroom and headed back towards her office. She smiled briefly at the other Mediwitches she passed on her way through the hall. She loved her job, and she loved the people she worked with. Life couldn't get any better – almost.

She pushed open the door to her office and was startled to see someone waiting for her. When her eyes fell on a familiar bush of chestnut hair, she smiled. She took her seat behind her desk and grinned at her friend.

"How are things today, Hermione?" she asked gently. Hermione gave her a forced smile, and Ginny tried her best to ignore the thick, black circles beneath her eyes.

"Same as usual," she said, her voice quivering momentarily. She shook her head as though to clear it, then smiled again. Ginny was pleased to note that it seemed like more of a genuine smile this time. She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, and waited for Hermione to continue. "Ginny, why do they make you wear a Mediwitches' uniform?" she asked curiously.

"I suppose for conformity; to make me look more like a _real_ healer," she laughed softly. Hermione frowned.

"You're just as much of a healer as anyone else out there," she protested, fingering the thin, golden band that encircled the ring finger of her left hand.

"Well, as much as I hate to say it, people here don't tend to think of me as a certified healer. Just because I chose to become what more closely resembles a Muggle Psychiatrist..." she left off with a vague shrug.

"But you can prescribe medicine and distribute potions," Hermione pointed out. Ginny smiled.

"True. Alright, enough babble about me, let's talk about you. Have you given any more thought to what we discussed in your last session?" Hermione's eyes dropped to her lap, and Ginny put her quill down with a sigh. "You haven't thought about it at all?"

"No," Hermione admitted, biting her lip. She took a deep breath, and her words all tumbled out in a rush. "I swear I can still hear him out in the garden sometimes, Ginny. I'll come home from work and half expect him to be there, drinking coffee in the kitchen, like he always did." Her hazel eyes filled with tears, and Ginny handed her the box of tissues that she kept handy.

"Hermione," she said. Her voice was extremely gentle, but firm as well. "Believe me, I _know_ how hard it can be to let go. But he's gone. He isn't coming back. And he wouldn't want you to put your entire life on hold because of him! Think of Alice." At the mention of her daughter's name, Hermione smiled.

"I know you're right," she said, nodding. "I know. And I feel horrible for neglecting Alice when I'm at work, and ..." her voice died as fresh tears began to fall.

"You aren't neglecting Alice when you work. You have to put food on the table somehow, don't you?" Hermione nodded hesitantly, dabbing at her cheeks with her tissue. "Alice loves you dearly, and you're an excellent mother. Don't ever let anyone tell you any differently."

"Thanks," she sighed, giving her friend a lopsided grin. "I know I get all worked up over nothing, but ever since... since...well, you _know_ when, I find myself getting all flustered and upset over anything! I thought I had moved past my grief, but then something will remind me of him, and I fall to pieces."

"That's perfectly understandable, Hermione. He was a big part of your life – your husband, your best friend, your child's father. But you also have to remember that even when you finally move on, it doesn't mean that you have to forget him in the process. No one's asking you to do that; no one _would_ ask you to do that."

"I know what you're saying is making perfect sense to my head," she said, a small sob escaping between words. "But I wish someone could make my heart understand." Ginny nodded and waited until Hermione's sobs had nearly subsided before she spoke again.

"No amount of talking from anyone is going to help that. That's something that you're going to have to tackle by yourself. But in the meantime, I'm here, and I'm willing to listen and offer any help that I can."

After their hour-long session was up, Ginny stood and embraced Hermione tightly. She pulled away and smiled at her friend, whose face was now red and puffy from all the crying she'd done.

"Please, don't stay away so long next time. You're still my friend, and I'd like to see you _outside_ of this office sometimes, too. Why don't you bring Alice over this weekend? Lily hasn't seen her in ages and I know she'd be tickled pink." Hermione smiled.

"That sounds nice."

"Alright, then, it's a date. Tea at my house Saturday afternoon." She linked her arm through Hermione's, and then led her down the hall towards the main entrance. "Take care of yourself, Hermione."

"You, too, Ginny." They hugged one last time, and Ginny watched Hermione leave before she went back to her office. She was scribbling some notes about their session when someone knocked at her door.

"Come in," she said. The door opened, then shut with a soft _click_. She didn't look up from her notes. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Mrs. Malfoy." The gaunt woman settled herself in the plush chair that faced Ginny's desk. She put her notes away and smiled at the woman, not really expecting her to smile back.

The initial meeting with Narcissa had been a complete shock to Ginny. Never in a million years would she have thought that a Malfoy would seek out therapy of their own free will; let alone from a _blood traitor_ Weasley. She'd gotten over her surprise quickly, though, when she'd heard the woman open up to her and understood that she had been just as affected by the war as everyone else had. And shouldn't she be allowed to grieve just like anyone else? Even if he had been a cruel, overbearing man, she _had_ loved her husband.

And as Ginny knew full well, war didn't discriminate based on bloodlines.


	2. Chapter 2

Ginny had finally finished with all of her patients and began pulling pins out of her hair. She removed her cap and sat it neatly on the corner of her desk, then pulled the remaining pins out of her hair, letting the copper waves fall around her shoulders. She combed her fingers through her tresses quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of order, then tucked her cap into her top desk drawer. Living near Hermione for so long at Hogwarts had rubbed off on her. Then again, living with Harry afterwards had gone against everything Hermione had ever shown her about cleanliness. She smiled to herself as she moved out of her office and turned to lock the door behind her. When she turned around, she found herself looking into a pair of silvery eyes framed by white-blonde hair.

"_Weasley!"_ he hissed. She smoothed out the front of her uniform and met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Actually, it's Potter now," she informed him, attempting to move past him. "And my shift just ended, so if you'll excuse me." He stepped in front of her, and she forced herself to take a calming breath without letting him see her do it.

"Potter, is it?" he smirked. "Well, _Potter_, I need to talk to you." Ginny stopped and nodded.

"Alright. Stop on the way out and make an appointment with my secretary." She sidestepped him and began walking down the hallway, her long legs moving quickly. She hadn't seen Lily all day, and was anxious to get back to her. Draco stared after her in surprise, then sprinted to catch up to her.

"Did you just tell me to make an appointment?" he asked, not bothering to mask his surprise. She nodded hastily and smiled at her secretary, Violet.

"Mr. Malfoy would like to make an appointment to speak to me."

"Counseling?" Malfoy's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"Absolutely not!" he protested, arching an eyebrow. He turned back to Ginny, who was already halfway down the hallway, and turned to catch up with her. "I'm going to speak to you right now!" She turned and gave him a cool stare.

"I know this concept is foreign to you, Mr. Malfoy, but I have a daughter to get home to. My shift is over for today."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"And what cause would I have to be afraid of you?" her voice remained steady.

"Most people are, you know."

"Well, I'm not." She turned and began walking towards the front doors, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm. She spun around and yanked her arm away from him.

"I need to talk to you about my mother."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I do not discuss my patients with anyone." He frowned and his eyes turned icy.

"I am paying for this bloody therapy, so you _will_ discuss her with me."

"I don't care _who_ is paying for her therapy, I don't discuss my patients with _anyone."_ She turned and walked out the door, leaving him staring after her.

* * *

"Hello poppet!" Ginny cooed, scooping Lily into her arms. The three year-old squirmed and made a face, and Ginny laughed. She put her daughter down and watched as she went back to her dolls.

"Ginny, is that you, dear?" her mother's voice called from the kitchen. She dropped her purse on the table in the foyer and followed the direction of the voice. Her mother was cooking- again –and her face was pink from exertion. Ginny dropped down into one of the chairs at the table and rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, it's just me."

"How was work?"

"Same as always," she said, wrinkling her nose at the foul smell that filled the air. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. Her mother had done nothing since the war except experiment with her cooking. Ginny supposed that it was one of the few things that helped keep Molly sane, after the death of her husband. She stood and peered over her mother's shoulder. "What in the world are you cooking, Mum?"

"It's a new recipe I got out of Witch Weekly," she said absentmindedly. "How is Lily? Did you check on her?"

"Of course I did. She's fine – playing with the new dolls that Fred sent her last week." Molly's hand paused above the pot she was stirring, and then went on again as though nothing had happened. Ginny had seen the movement though. "Mum, I've been meaning to ask you something. How about we have a nice little family dinner, and I'll invite Fred and Ron?"

"That would be lovely," Molly said, flashing her a rare genuine smile. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and pushed her hair away from her face. "Where is Ron this week, anyway? He never writes to me anymore."

"He never writes to _anyone,_ Mum, you know that," Ginny scolded her gently. She stood and retrieved a butterbeer from the refrigerator, then sat back down. "I think he was in Egypt the last time I heard from him, but that's been weeks." She shrugged and took a long drink.

"Did he mention any girlfriends or anything?" Molly asked hopefully. Ginny sniggered and stood.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Mum. Even if Ron had a girlfriend, you know he wouldn't tell me about it. He says I analyze things too much." She smiled and stretched, then turned to leave. "I'll send Hedwig out to him in a bit, but I'm going to go and shower now." She paused with her hand above the doorknob, and then thought better of it. She turned and planted a kiss on her mother's cheek, then went upstairs to the bathroom.

She turned on the taps and let the glorious steam fog up the mirror before stepping beneath the hot spray. She closed her eyes and let the water wash over her for a few minutes. She reached for the shampoo bottle, but her hand froze just in front of it. She sighed and dropped her hand, and felt the tears welling up. The shower was the one place she ever allowed herself to show her sadness.

The hot tears rolled down her cheek, mingling with the droplets of water. She squeezed her eyes shut and sighed, letting them fall_. No one in the shower to see or pass judgement on me. I'm all alone._ The last thought resonated in her head, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. Yes, she was alone – in the truest sense of the word. The love of her life – her soul mate – was gone. Dead. _Murdered_. A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it.

He'd warned her before they'd even started dating, so it was her own fault. She hadn't cared – she wanted to be with Harry, and no one else. She'd never been happier in her entire life than the night he proposed to her five years ago. She was nineteen and had just finished her Mediwitch training, and he was one of the Ministry's most respected Aurors. She'd jumped on him and nearly smothered him when she'd told him yes. Pain stabbed her heart repeatedly as she remembered his eyes, bright and shining, on their wedding day.

And then when she'd told him about the baby. Oh, she'd never seen him happier, ever. He was finally getting the family he'd always longed for; finally, happiness had embraced him fully. The day their daughter was born, she could have sworn he'd died and gone to heaven. The moment her startling green eyes met her father's, he was hooked. He doted on her as though she were a Princess, because in his eyes, truly she was. She had Ginny's red hair and Harry's green eyes, and she'd reminded him of his Mum, so they'd named her Lily.

Her mouth twisted in a pained smile when she realized he'd gotten to spend about as much time with Lily as the original Lily had gotten to spend with him. A week after her first birthday, he was called to the Ministry on business – that business being, of course, the final battle with Voldemort. Harry had defeated him easily enough, only to turn around and be _Avada Kedavra'd_ by none other than Lucius Malfoy himself. Ginny knew she shouldn't, but she couldn't help but feel somewhat vindicated that her brother, Ron, had killed the bastard.

And poor Harry. _God. _Is_ there a God? I'm not so sure anymore._ She reached for the shampoo bottle with steadier hands and squeezed a small amount into her palm, then worked it through her hair, trying to let the scent of Chamomile calm her. It had been Harry's favorite scent, and she knew she would never use anything else, as long as she'd lived. She closed her eyes and saw him standing beside Lily, singing to her in her crib. She'd laughed and made fun of him, but he'd poked his tongue out at her and continued singing.

Thank goodness that Harry had picked something up from Colin Creevey and become a picture fanatic – he snapped two or three new ones every day. While Ginny had thought at the time that he had gone round the twist, now she could fully appreciate his efforts. At least she had something to show Lily, and something for herself to remind her of the best four years of her life. As long as she drew breath, she would ensure that no one would forget her darling Harry, ever.

She rinsed her hair and sighed. She had to calm down before she left the bathroom, or she'd be the recipient of one of her mother's famous "move on" speeches. Her mother had soundly berated her. _"You spend all day at work telling other people to move on and helping them do it, and yet you remain stuck in the same place. How is that healthy, Ginny? Life keeps moving. You need to move with it."_

She turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower, into the steam of the bathroom. She reached for a towel and buried her face in it, taking deep, calming breaths. Her heart was beating abnormally fast. She kicked herself mentally. How was it that she could even face the wife of the man who'd killed her husband without blinking, but recalling the happier moments in her life made her ache as though she'd just been told the news of his death again? She felt herself trembling and pulled her clothes on shakily, then sat down heavily on the floor.

Lily deserved more than this. She deserved more than a father who'd been wrongfully taken away from her, and a mother who drowned herself in her work and was mired in denial. She pulled a brush through her hair and winced as it encountered several tangles. When she had worked them all out, she took a deep breath and stood up, not daring to glance in the mirror. She knew better than that. If she looked in the mirror, she would see the reason Harry had been killed.

She draped the damp towel across the side of the bathtub, and then went downstairs to join her mother and daughter in the sitting room. Since moving into Number 12 Grimmauld Place with Harry, she'd become comfortable with the Muggle additions to the house. He'd installed a television, a stereo, a DVD player, and had acquired several hundred DVD's and CD's. Lily thoroughly enjoyed the television, if nothing else – Harry, ever the doting father, had proceeded to purchase her every cartoon ever made – or so Ginny had liked to tease him. Lily and Molly were both sitting on the couch, watching Alice in Wonderland.

"Do you think anyone realized that Lewis Carroll was a wizard?" her mother asked thoughtfully. Ginny smiled and sat down next to Lily, smoothing her wild copper hair away from her forehead.

"I asked Harry that myself."

"What did he say?"

"He said absolutely not. He didn't even think about it until after he'd been at Hogwarts for a few years – when he was in one of Hagrid's classes, and came across an animal that reminded him of a Bandersnatch in the story." Molly chuckled.

"I'll bet he was surprised that you even knew the story, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was," she admitted, wrapping a protective arm around Lily. "But not after I explained that the author was a Wizard. Then everything seemed to fall into place, and he felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. I asked him why the chess pieces coming to life and speaking hadn't given him a clue, since he was such an avid fan of Wizard's chess."

"I wish I had been there for that conversation," Molly laughed. Ginny smiled wistfully. _I wish I could go back and have it all over again._

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm starved!" she exclaimed, picking Lily up. Lily giggled as Ginny perched her on her shoulders, then carried her into the kitchen. She sat her down and fixed her a plate, then got herself something to eat. She glanced around the table at her mother and her daughter, and smiled. Yes, sometimes life could be good, even in the midst of pain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Tell me a story," Lily begged. Ginny smiled and tucked the covers under her freckled chin, then sat down on the side of Lily's bed.

"What shall it be tonight, Poppet? A Quidditch story, perhaps?" Ginny smiled indulgently at her. At the tender age of three and a half, her daughter had already developed her father's passion for Quidditch. The thought struck her as humorous that Harry would be mortified if he knew his daughter was a Chudley Cannons fan – thanks to her Uncle Ron.

"No, Mummy, I want to hear a story about Daddy tonight." Ginny's heart clenched in her chest, but she smiled.

"What would you like to hear about?"

"How did Uncle Ron and Daddy get to be friends?" Her viridian eyes were glowing with excitement, and Ginny couldn't help but laugh. Harry was never very far away when Lily was near; she carried his soul inside her little body like an Olympic torch.

"Well, your Daddy didn't know he was a Wizard until he got his Hogwarts letter, remember?" Lily nodded eagerly. "He was on the train to Hogwarts for his first year," she said.

"And he and Uncle Ron shared the same car," she filled in eagerly. Ginny laughed and gave her a look of mock anger. She knew very well that Lily had heard this story enough to have it memorized herself.

"Do you want me to tell you this story or not, young lady?" Her voice was stern. Lily's smile wavered momentarily, and then she realized that she was being teased. Her face melted into one of Harry's signature grins, and she nodded with only the impetuousness that a three year old can convey. Ginny chuckled softly.

"I'm sorry, Mum."

"I know, sweeting. Alright, where was I? Oh, yes," she said, nodding. "He was on the train to go to Hogwarts for his first year, and you're right. He and Uncle Ron shared a compartment on the same car."

"And he bought me a _load_ of sweets off of the snack trolley," a pleasant voice boomed from the doorway. Ginny looked up in mild surprise as Lily squealed and pushed the covers off of her.

"Uncle Ron! _Uncle Ron!"_ She launched herself at him, and he grinned. He bent and picked her up, giving her an indulgent kiss on the forehead.

"Aren't you tired of that story _yet_, Lils?" Ginny felt her heart flip at his nickname for her. She knew that Harry's father had called his mother that – she remembered him saying it was one of the things he'd heard from Sirius. She stood and smoothed out her modest flannel pyjamas.

"I _never_ get tired of that story," Lily asserted, her chubby face going serious. "My _Daddy_ is in it. It's my favoritest story in the whole wide world!" Ron grinned and nodded.

"So I see," he teased. He gave her another kiss before handing her into Ginny's outstretched arms.

"Alright, Poppet. Time for bed. You'll have plenty of time to visit with Uncle Ron in the morning." She tucked in a very disappointed Lily and snapped off the light. She followed Ron down to the kitchen, where her mother had already made coffee, and she hugged him. "What brings you here, Ron? Mum and I were just talking about inviting you and Fred over for dinner." He took a mug of steaming liquid from his mother and sat down.

"So _that's_ why my ears were burning," he teased. She rolled her eyes playfully, and Molly sat down with a smile. Sometimes it was amazing how much Ron could make her feel as though they were both still teenagers; when times had been happier.

"Seriously," she prodded. He shrugged.

"I got some time off rather, er, unexpectedly," he said, raising the cup to his lips. Ginny's mouth fell open.

"Ron, please tell me you didn't get _fired!"_

"No, I didn't get fired," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Well?" his mother asked exasperatedly. "Are you going to tell us or not?"

"I got promoted," he said proudly. Ginny let out a long squeal, and Molly almost knocked over her coffee mug as she jumped up to hug him. He laughed. "It's not that big of a deal, really. I actually have vacation time now, though, so I thought I'd take a day off, first thing."

"Your father would have been so proud!" Molly beamed. Ron's ears turned pink, and Ginny laughed.

"I think you're embarrassing him, Mum." She sipped at her coffee, and Ron glanced up at her.

"How are you doing, Gin?" he asked softly. She knew he was asking about more than her work or Lily, and gave him a wry smile. "Same, huh."

"Well, sort of. You know, I ran into someone rather unexpectedly today."

"Who?"

"Draco Malfoy." Ron sputtered, and his mother handed him a napkin to dab at the coffee that was staining his white shirt. He turned incredulous eyes to her.

"Did you just say you got a visit from Ferret Boy?" She grinned and nodded.

"Yeah, he wanted to talk about his mother. Apparently he's been paying for her therapy with me."

"You're giving therapy to _his mother?"_ Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth. What had happened to her patient's privacy? "Have you been taking the mickey? How can you see her without thinking about how _her_ husband killed _yours?"_

"Ron," she said, removing her hand and taking a deep breath. "Her _husband_ killed Harry, not _her_. She's grieving just as much as anyone else, you know." He stared at her in amazement, and then turned to his mother.

"Is my sister not the most _amazing_ woman you've ever met in your entire life?" He turned awed eyes back to her, and she blushed, unaccustomed to praise – especially from Ron. Molly smiled proudly. "You are, without a doubt, the most forgiving person I've ever met."

"Narcissa didn't do anything for me to have to forgive," she pointed out reasonably.

"I beg to differ," Ron shook his head. "She gave birth to the world's greatest git."

"Oh, Ron!" she couldn't help laughing. He reminded her so much of Harry in that moment that it was almost painful.

"How is the old Ferret, anyway?" he asked, going back to his coffee.

"I wouldn't know," she said honestly. He looked up, curiosity filling his eyes. "He told me he wanted to discuss his mother, and I told him my shift was over. I told him to make an appointment with Violet. He didn't seem pleased," she smiled.

"I reckon not," he laughed. "Fancy my sister telling _Draco Malfoy_ to make an appointment with her!" He snorted with laughter. "I never thought he'd have the guts to show his face anywhere again, what with the big scandal about him being a turncoat."

"I suppose he had good reasons for betraying his father," she said smoothly, her voice not belying her emotions. She knew perfectly well why he had turned against Lucius and Voldemort in the end – to save his mother, the only person he'd ever cared about. Narcissa had told her as much. It was one reason for her biweekly sessions with Ginny. She felt horribly guilty for turning father against son, and vice versa. Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

"Now that is an interesting way to phrase it, little sister," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Is there something you'd care to share with the rest of the class?" She laughed.

"Patient confidentiality."

"But _he's_ not a patient of yours, so you can say anything about _him_ that you want to," Ron pointed out, barely containing his excitement. She giggled.

"Sorry, Ron." His face fell. "But I'll keep you notified of any new developments, should he decide to speak to me. Incidentally, are you going to be in town Saturday? Hermione is bringing Alice over to play with Lily." His eyes lit up quickly again.

"Is she? How is she doing?"

"She's getting better. It's a long, slow process, but she's making great strides."

"Excellent," he said, clearly relieved. "She's been a totally different person since Neville's death, you know. I was beginning to worry she'd never get back to being the Hermione we all know and love." Ginny thought she might have heard his voice soften as he said the last part of his sentence, but she couldn't be sure.

"Oh!" Molly said, startling them both. "I forgot to tell you, I got a letter from Remus this morning, and he's headed back into this area!" Ron's eyes lit up and Ginny's face split in a grin.

"Well, you'll have to invite him over on Saturday, as well!" Ginny said. Molly nodded and smiled, and Ron fidgeted in his chair.

"Would it be asking too much if I invited... erm..." his face turned pink beneath the curious stares of his mother and sister. "If I invited someone to come with me?"

"Does this someone have a name?" Ginny asked, her voice heavy with amusement. Ron's ears promptly went from pink to scarlet, and he mumbled something under his breath. Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. "Did you just say what I think you just said?"

"What do you think I said?" he asked, fervently hoping that she wouldn't make him repeat the name. He knew from the way she raised her eyebrows that she was going to make him do precisely that. "Blaise Zabini."

"_The_ Blaise Zabini? As in the Slytherin girl that every guy in Hogwarts wanted to shag?" Ron's face turned a nasty shade of green.

"Don't say that," he protested weakly. "I didn't want to shag her, and neither did Harry."

"You didn't want to shag her _then_, but I'd be willing to bet that now is a different story," she said pointedly. He tried to hide his cheeky grin, but she saw it, and her mouth dropped open. "You already _have_, haven't you? You dirty thing, you!" She didn't sound as mortified as she tried to, and her mother hid a smile behind her hand.

"Actually, we have an... announcement, of sorts, to make. I was hoping that you could get a hold of Fred and invite him, because I want him to hear too."

"Oh!" Ginny's eyes filled with tears of happiness for her brother. "You're getting married, then?"

"That, and we're going to help the Weasley name move into the next generation," he said, looking proud even though his face was fuchsia.

"Oh, Ronald!" his mother squealed, tears pooling in her eyes. Ginny's jaw dropped in surprise, but her eyes twinkled happily.

"It's about damned time you gave my daughter someone to play with," she said, trying to sound haughty. He grinned and opened his arms as she hugged him tightly. The truth was that she was more than moved by his baby-to-be. The birth of another baby meant that the rebuilding of the Weasley family was beginning. Even though no one could ever replace her father or other brothers, at least this was a start.

"Do you mind if I stay here tonight?" he asked abruptly. She was pulled from her thoughts, and noticed the odd look he was giving her.

"Ron, what a ridiculous question," she admonished, smiling tiredly. "Really. You know you don't even have to ask." She stifled a yawn, and Molly swooped in to take the empty coffee mugs away.

"You should be getting to bed, Ginny. You have to get up early for work tomorrow." Ginny laughed softly. It didn't matter that she was a grown woman with a child and house of her own; her mother would always be her mother. She stood and dropped a kiss on Ron's forehead, then left the room.

When morning came, it found Ginny already dressed and ready to floo to work. She kissed Lily goodbye and promised to play a game with her when she got home, then left her to her brother's devices. She walked towards her office wearing a silly grin; she knew that Lily and Ron would most likely spend all day outside, talking Quidditch. He loved to take her for rides on his new broom, and she loved it almost as much as him.

She squared her shoulders resolutely, trying to prepare herself for the seriousness that lay ahead, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Ron. The war had changed him. And why wouldn't it have? He watched his best friend and half of his family die at the hands of the death eaters, while simultaneously seeing his best girl friend and his sister slip into depression. She shook her head; at least she'd broken free of that vise grip – Hermione was a different matter altogether, though.

She was so lost in thought that as she walked into her office, she failed to notice that it was already occupied. She reached into her desk for her lime-green hat, then pulled it out and turned to the small mirror that hung on her wall. She began to pin her hair up, then jumped when she heard a voice.

"And who said that Malfoys were the only vain people on the face of the planet?" he smirked. She spun around to face him, not letting the surprise register on her face for an instant.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy," she said pleasantly, putting her hat to the side for the moment. She sat down at her desk and looked at the schedule that her secretary had left for her. "What a surprise to see you back so soon."

"I _am_ on there, you know," he said, amused. She didn't even blink. She had learned how to keep her emotions in check – in this line of work, it was a necessary ability.

"I can see that," she said politely, sitting the parchment down on her desk in front of her. She folded her hands together on top of the dark cherry wood and gazed unflinchingly at him. He shifted uncomfortably and eyed her back. "Won't you sit down?" she asked.

"How very _professional_ of you," he murmured, taking a seat on the plush chair that faced her desk.

"One tries," she said dryly. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, then was gone. "What can I do for you?"

"I told you yesterday," he said, leaning back in the chair. He rested his left ankle on his right knee casually. "I want to discuss my mother."

"And what is it about her that you'd like to discuss?"

"I want to know exactly what she talks to you about two damn times a week," he said, his cool demeanor staying in place. She gave him an indulgent smile.

"I'm afraid I can't discuss that with you, Mr. Malfoy. That would be breaking our confidentiality agreement, as I'm sure you're well aware of."

"Look," he said, his eyes flashing. He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward. "She is my mother, and I am paying for her sessions. Therefore, I have a right to know!"

"You may be paying for her sessions," she said calmly. "But that does not in any way entitle you to know what goes on in this room when she is here. If she chooses to tell you herself, that is her own prerogative. However, I am not at liberty to divulge any information." He gaped at her.

"Fine." If she was surprised, she didn't show it. Draco couldn't help it; he was intrigued beyond belief. This was definitely not the same girl he remembered from Hogwarts. She had been vibrant and bubbly, which had irritated him to no end. Not to mention the fact that she had done nothing but moon over the Wonder Boy – and apparently had married him and had his child as well. The woman before him showed no emotion other than polite interest, and it infuriated him. What infuriated him even more was that he was _interested_ in finding out if he could crack her shell.

"Well, if that's all then," she said, nodding. He shook his head.

"That's not all."

"Was there something else you needed?"

"Did you even read your schedule, Potter?" he asked, smirking. The name sounded strange directed at her, but his voice didn't show it. She turned her eyes briefly to the schedule, and Draco got his first taste of satisfaction – she was _surprised_, and he knew it.

"Oh," she said, her voice neutral. "I didn't realize that you had wanted to have a session yourself. Alright, then, I'm afraid you've caught me off guard. Just let me get a few things out, and we can begin." He nodded silently and watched as she went methodically about her morning ritual.

She dropped her hat into her drawer, not wanting to be bothered by unnecessary distractions. She pulled out a bottle of ink, two quills (in case one of them broke, as she tended to squeeze them so tightly that they snapped rather frequently), and some parchment. He watched with interest as she went about her tasks, noting the lack of effort it took on her part. When she had her quill in hand, she looked up and did something that caught Draco totally off guard.

She smiled at him.

"Are we ready?" he nodded, wondering if this had been such a smashing idea, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Draco stared at her in surprised silence for a moment, not really knowing what was expected of him. He'd never really been to a counselor before (unless he had to count the career counseling he'd gotten from Snape in fifth year at Hogwarts). When she lifted her eyebrows at him, he cleared his throat perfunctorily.

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't want to _know_ anything, Mr. Malfoy. I am here to listen and help, if I can. Tell me only what you feel comfortable with."

"Well, first off, let's get one thing straight," he said, holding up a hand. "My name is Draco. I'd appreciate it if you'd quit calling me _Mr. Malfoy_ – you make it sound as though I'm walking around with a cane." She gave him a small smile, which he tried to reciprocate. It came out as more of a pained smirk.

"Alright then, _Draco_," she said, the name sliding from her lips as though she used it in everyday conversation, and not as though he'd been one of her husband's worst enemies in school. "Is there anything in particular that you wanted to discuss?"

"What do other people talk about when you see them?" he asked curiously. She sat her quill down, suddenly realizing that it was going to take a bit for him to warm up to their session.

"Well, most people come in and tell me things that they're having problems coping with. Perhaps loss of a loved one, or a particularly bad fight with a spouse or significant other. Lots of people come in and just tell me how their day has been."

"And you can sit through their drivel?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She didn't answer, just regarded him steadily from across her desk. He felt a tingle begin in his chest; this was a challenge to him. He hadn't met anyone whose buttons he couldn't push yet – and he was intent on finding out what made Ginny Weasley – _Potter_, he corrected himself mentally – tick. "Honestly, are you that bored? You must be completely lacking of a social life."

"If you've only come to discuss my social life, or lack thereof, as you so eloquently put it," she said sweetly. "Then I'm afraid I'll have to cut our session short. I have other duties to fulfill." She began to put her quill away, but he held up a hand in defeat.

"Alright, I'll be good," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste. She very nearly laughed, although Draco wasn't familiar enough with her expressions to have caught her fleeting look of amusement.

"Well, then. Where would you like to begin?" The quill was back out and poised above a piece of parchment. He eyed it nervously; if he told her something and she wrote it down, countless people could get to it and exploit him for it. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and put the quill down. "If this makes you nervous, I won't take notes." His eyes flew to hers in surprise.

"Good," he drawled softly. He had wanted to say 'Thank You,' but somehow it just hadn't come out the way he'd meant it to. He ran a nervous hand through his platinum hair and groped for something to say. It was strange to have someone listening to him the way he knew she was about to, and he was apprehensive about telling her anything too personal. "I suppose you're waiting for me to spill my guts, aren't you?"

"This is your hour, Draco. You're paying for it, and you may do with it as you wish. I don't expect you to spill your guts to me, unless you feel the need to. Take your time. It's alright to feel uncomfortable with me, you know. After all, I know that it's difficult to entrust a stranger with any personal information." Again, he was surprised. He was floored, actually. He had to give her credit – the woman seemed to be good at her job- so far.

"I'm never uncomfortable," he lied smoothly. She just gave him a knowing smile that infuriated the hell out of him. _Alright, I'll show her I'm not uncomfortable. Think, Malfoy, think! Tell her something, anything!_ "I had a rather bad row with my fiancée yesterday evening." He waited for her to say something, but she only continued to stare noncommittally at him. He took it as a signal to keep talking.

"She told me that her cousin had just died, and she wanted me to go to the funeral. I refused – I'm not going to her cousin's funeral! Her cousin married a _Mudblood!_" he sneered. She didn't protest at his use of the word, which mildly surprised him. "She ranted and raved at me for a solid hour, so I left. When I got back to the manor, she refused to speak to me. She _still_ isn't speaking to me, actually."

"And how does that make you feel?" she asked gently. He stared at her as though she was a werewolf.

"I'm bloody pissed, that's how I feel! Why should I be expected to go to a Mudblood's funeral?"

"Did you ask her that, in those exact words?"

"Yes, I did," he said, feeling the anger swirling around inside his stomach. "So?"

"How did she react when you said that to her?"

"She started crying and screaming, I told you that not five minutes ago," he spat.

"Was she close to her cousin?" Her question caught him off guard, and he frowned.

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Perhaps she was so upset with you because she was close to her cousin. You might want to ask her about that. It's possible that she didn't think about what she was asking you to do in terms of attending a Muggle-born's funeral," he noted her genteel phrasing. "But maybe instead thought of asking you in terms of being there for her emotional support." The idea made sense to him, and he felt like an idiot. Why hadn't he thought about that?

"Natasha doesn't _need_ my emotional support," he protested. "She's a rock. She never shows any emotion."

"That can't be true," she said gently. "From what you've just told me, she expressed anger and hurt. She yelled and cried, did she not?"

"Oh." His frown grew deeper.

"Sometimes the solution to the problem lies in your ability to be empathetic." He directed his frown at her. "Empathy is the ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes, and see things from their perspective." _And boy, do we both know you are **seriously** lacking in this department!_

"I know what empathy is," he snapped.

"I wasn't trying to insinuate that you didn't," she said calmly. _She's good,_ he thought. _Better than I'd anticipated._

"So what do you suggest then?" he leaned back in the plush chair and eyed her thoughtfully.

"I would suggest that when you return home and she's calmed down, you two should talk. Ask her if that's why she wanted you to go with her. Maybe you can reach some sort of compromise." She glanced at the enchanted clock on the wall. "I'm sorry, but our time is up." She stood from her chair.

"Already?" he asked, somewhat startled. Had he really been here an hour? He stood and stared at the hand she proffered. "What?"

"Shaking hands, Draco," she said pleasantly. "It's actually a quite common way of saying goodbye."

"I knew that," he snapped. He put his hand in hers for a split second, then yanked it away. She didn't seem fazed.

"I trust you know your way out?" she asked distractedly. She was rifling through her file cabinet, looking for the file for her next patient. He rolled his eyes and stormed out of the office without looking back.

No wonder his mother had recommended her. She'd done wonders with his mother; she really had. It'd been ages since he'd been awoken by his Mother's screams at night; she used to have the most terrible nightmares. He'd seen such a marked change in her that he'd been curious as to how it had all come about. When he'd asked his mother about it, she'd just given him a wan smile and said that she'd never thought that talking to someone could be so therapeutic. That had piqued his curiosity. At his Mother's insistence, he'd come to see her himself.

Now he began to understand why his mother put so much faith in this woman. It had seemed as though when he was talking, she'd been listening, hadn't it? He stopped short when he reached the desk of her secretary, and the tiny woman looked up with obvious fear in her eyes.

"May I help you, Mister Malfoy?" she squeaked.

"Does Potter have any other openings this week?" he inquired smoothly. The witch checked a calendar in front of her and nodded. "How many, and when?"

"She has one tomorrow at the same time you saw her today. Actually, she has this slot open for the rest of the week. She's never very busy in the mornings."

"Pencil me in for every session this week at the same time." She looked surprised, but did as she was told. He swept outside, leaving a very confused secretary staring after him.

"I'm going to the tearoom for my morning tea, Violet," Ginny said, appearing from around the corner. She smiled until she saw the woman's perplexed look. "What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

"No, it's not that," she said softly.

"Is everything alright, then?"

"Yes," she said, not making eye contact with Ginny. "Mister Malfoy just booked another session with you." Ginny's eyes widened slightly.

"He _did_?"

"Actually, he booked _four_ more sessions with you this week." Ginny's mouth dropped open in an unusual display of emotion, and she snatched the appointment book from Violet. She stared at it in disbelief before dropping it unceremoniously back onto the desk. With a dazed look, she turned towards the stairs.

"I might take longer than usual," she said. "I think I'm going to need more than one tea this morning – I need all the strength I can get."

"Mummy's home!" Ginny called brightly, brushing the soot off of her uniform. When she was met with silence, she smiled to herself. She went into the kitchen expecting to find her mother, but the room was empty. Bewildered, she began sweeping through the house, looking for anyone. When she hadn't found anyone, she began to worry. She went back down to the kitchen, where she noticed a piece of parchment lying on the table.

_Gin,_

_I'm taking Mum and Lily to Hogsmeade for dinner. You're expected at promptly six thirty, so don't be late! We'll be at our favorite table in the Three Broomsticks._

_Love,_

_Ron_

She smiled to herself and checked the time. It was six o'clock, which left her just enough time to shower and change clothes. When she had finished showering, she went to her closet to pick out something to wear. Instead of her clothes, though, her eyes were drawn to Harry's clothes, which still hung in the closet, as though waiting to be worn. She removed a white shirt from the rack and pressed it to her face, closing her eyes to breathe in the scent of him better. Even after two years, his clothes still smelled like him. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she replaced the shirt, not wanting to muss it up.

It wasn't healthy, and it wasn't right. She knew it as well as the next person. But she couldn't let him go so quickly. She'd loved him for so long that it was difficult to separate her love for him from anything else in her life. It was like a second nature to her. She moved her eyes towards her half of the closet and reached for her favorite black shirt. Harry had always loved it on her; she'd worn it every time they'd ever gone out to dinner together after Lily's birth. It was a very snug shirt that showed off all of her curves, and the neck was scooped, revealing the tiniest bit of cleavage. She smiled and slipped it on as she remembered Harry telling her, with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, that she was a walking felony in that shirt.

She pulled on a pair of green, low-waisted pants, and was surprised at how well they fit. She remembered getting them from Harry for her birthday the first year they'd been married. He used to come up behind her when she wore them, and slide his broad hands around the patch of exposed skin at her navel... she shook her head, trying to snap out of her reverie.

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," she quipped to no one in particular. She grabbed her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, not wanting to get her outfit sooty in the floo. When she got to the Three Broomsticks, she removed it and slung it over her arm. She turned to head towards her usual table, but wound up colliding with someone instead. The man shot out a hand to prevent her from falling, and she looked up into her savior's grey eyes. Grey eyes?_ Oh, no..._

"Well, well," he drawled softly, as she yanked her arm away from his grasp. He eyed her appreciatively. _Potter had better taste than I thought._ She didn't look like she'd had a baby – she was so thin, he wondered if perhaps she might have adopted her child. Then again, her husband had died, he reasoned – and half of her family. That could cause weight loss even in the case of a cow like Millicent Bulstrode. He blinked in surprise at himself – why was he explaining away her fabulous body? "Can't stay away from me, can you, Weasley?"

"It's Potter," she said automatically. He bristled slightly at the name. Even dead, Harry managed to irk him. "Thanks for helping me." She turned her back to him and began walking in the other direction. He watched her thoughtfully as she approached a table where three other redheads sat, and blinked. The child that was sitting next to her was _definitely_ Potter's. The eyes were a dead giveaway. Where else could Draco have seen that exact shade of green?

"Draco," a voice purred. He turned to look at Natasha, standing there in all of her peroxided glory, and wondered why he suddenly wasn't hungry anymore. "Are you coming back to the table? You said you were just going to get our drinks, and..." her voice trailed off as his eyes drifted back towards Ginny's table. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he said coldly, brushing her hand off of his arm. It wouldn't do to let her drape all over him like this in public. He turned and headed back to their table, forgetting that he'd been getting their drinks.

"Miss me?" an arrogant voice drawled. She sat down behind her desk and placed her cup of tea on a small, woven coaster. She hung her cloak up on the coat hook and sat down in front of him, then gave him a small professional smile.

"I must admit, I'm a little surprised that you've booked so many sessions," she said, stirring two cubes of sugar into her tea. She popped open a small container of milk and poured it in, then tossed the trash into her wastebasket.

"And why is that?" he asked, sounding bored.

"It's just unusual – unless someone has been through a traumatic experience, I mean," she said, placing her spoon delicately on the small plate that her teacup rested on. She looked up. "I'm sorry, how rude of me. Would you like something to drink? Tea, perhaps, or coffee?" He looked startled by the offer. "I won't poison it, I promise. At least, not this time." He stared at her for a moment, then cracked a grin.

"Well, when you put it _that_ way, I'd be delighted. Coffee actually sounds good right now." She bit the inside of her cheek. She hadn't expected him to be pleased with her offer, or to accept it. She picked her wand up off of her desk and waved it slightly, muttering something, and a small, silver mug appeared. Draco was impressed. He picked it up and sniffed it, then lifted his eyes to her in utter surprise.

"How do _you_ know how I take my coffee?" He took a sip, and a glimmer of a smile painted her features momentarily.

"I believe you'll find that I'm more observant than most people are comfortable with." She sipped her tea leisurely, and he wondered just how much he'd underestimated her. "Would you like to begin?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, nodding. He'd almost forgotten that he'd come there with a purpose.

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes."

"How did it go?"

"You were right," he said grudgingly. He'd expected her to gloat, or at least crack a smile, but she didn't. Instead she just sat there, sipping her tea, and remaining silent. "She said she just wanted me to go as sort of a shoulder to cry on thing."

"So I take it you two have worked things out, then?" he nodded slightly. "That's excellent. Open communication is extremely important in a relationship. You've just taken the first step towards a healthy marriage." He almost choked on his coffee, and she gave him a curious look. "Are you alright?"

"I can't believe I'm about to tell you this," he said, looking _very_ freaked out. "But I don't really want to get married."

"I'm confused, then," she said, frowning slightly. "Why are you engaged if you don't want to be married?"

"My mother wants to see Grandchildren before she dies, and I was so afraid last year that she was going to, that I proposed to Natasha without really thinking it through." Ginny did some quick calculations in her head and guessed that Narcissa had begun coming to see her around the time Draco was talking about.

"Well, now she's quite alright," she said, wrapping her slender fingers around the teacup, and savoring its warmth. _Thanks to you,_ he thought. He surprised himself – what made him think that she was the reason his mother was better? "And you're sure you still don't want to get married?"

"Never been more sure of anything in my entire life," he asserted, sitting his empty coffee mug on her desk. It refilled instantly, and he was vaguely impressed. She knew how to treat her guests, didn't she?

"Have you spoken to Natasha about this?"

"Have you finished taking the mickey?" he asked disbelievingly. Her face broke into a wide grin, which startled him. He'd been around her for three days now, and he had already gotten used to her professional, polite manner. A show of emotion was a surprise, although he had to admit this was a welcome one. Her smile lit up the entire room. "What's so funny about that?"

"I'm sorry," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Someone else said something similar to me recently. Go ahead." The smile disappeared behind the mask of professionalism again, and he was shaken by how disappointed he suddenly felt.

"You're cracked if you think I'm about to mention _feelings_ to Natasha. It's obvious that you don't know her, or you wouldn't even suggest such a foolish thing."

"Well, you're right, I don't know her," she said, leaning back slightly in her chair. "Help me understand why it is that you feel you can't speak freely with her. She seemed receptive enough when you spoke to her yesterday – or at least, I assume she was, since you worked things out."

"She's about as cold as my father was," he blurted. Her only response was a quick blink. "She was my girlfriend when all of this stuff went down," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "She's loyal."

"You proposed to her out of obligation, then," she said quietly, sitting her teacup down. He shot her a murderous look.

"And? Like no one in history has ever done that before?"

"I didn't say that. I wasn't trying to downplay your reasons, either. I was just asking for clarification, that's all. If I'm to help you, I have to understand you first." His angry look faded, and he looked pensive.

"Not everyone marries for love," he said softly. He was not prepared for her reaction. Her shoulders fell slightly, and a wistful look crossed her features. Her eyes looked as though they had filled with tears, but she blinked them back quickly and shook her head slightly.

"I know," she said, giving him a sad smile. For some reason that he couldn't explain, the sight of it twisted his heart into tiny knots. "So you're willing to be bound to this person for the rest of your life, even though you don't love her?"

"I could do worse," he said, shrugging carelessly. She nodded almost imperceptibly, then picked up the refilled teacup. She brought it to her lips and closed her eyes to inhale its scent, then sipped gently before sitting it back down. When she looked back up at him, he was eyeing her with open curiosity.

"Yes?"

"What does it feel like?"

"What does what feel like?"

"Being in love." Her eyes widened slightly, and then she gave him a small laugh.

"Draco, I'm sure you don't want to hear about me and Harry." He didn't flinch at the name, which mildly surprised her.

"You're right, I don't want to hear about him. I want to know what being in love feels like." She considered this for a moment, then decided that it might help him if he knew. Perhaps he did love Natasha, and didn't realize it.

"It's like falling."

"Falling?" He arched an eyebrow.

"You know that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you've flown too high, or you fall a good distance, or ride a roller coaster?" he frowned, and she forgot that she'd only known what a roller coaster was because Harry had forced her to ride one. Amazing things Muggles would invent to create the sensation of flying.

"Sort of."

"That's the feeling you get every time you look at someone you love. And it never goes away. Every time you look at that person, you feel like that. And your stomach does little somersaults every time you touch. And you never want to be apart from that person, ever. It's euphoria, all the time." He watched as the pain flickered through her eyes, then left her usual indifference behind.

"I've never felt that way about anyone."

"Perhaps you might, someday," she nodded. "You might even grow to love Natasha, after you're married."

"I doubt it." He eyed her thoughtfully. "Do you still feel that way when you look at his pictures?" Her cheeks flushed slightly pink, and she glanced up at the clock.

"It's that time again, I'm afraid," she said. The tone of her voice told him that she was not at all afraid, or sorry, that their session was over. That was relief that he heard, loud and clear. _Saved by the bell,_ he thought, standing.

"See you tomorrow, then," he said smoothly, disappearing into the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"How are you this afternoon, Hermione?" Ginny asked brightly. Hermione gave her a forced smile and the same answer as always.

"I've been better."

"Would you like some tea or coffee?" she offered. Hermione shook her head.

"No, thanks. But we're still on for Saturday, right?"

"Certainly," Ginny smiled. "And Ron's going to be there as well." Hermione's normally dull cinnamon eyes lit up.

"Ron?" Ginny nodded, and Hermione rewarded her with a genuinely pleased smile. "Oh, how lovely!"

"He's looking forward to seeing you, as well. Mum's also inviting Fred and Remus." Something sparked behind Hermione's eyes, giving Ginny the first inklings of the old Hermione she hadn't seen in a long time.

"How is Remus?"

"He's good. Surprisingly well, considering that he's a werewolf who's actually made it well into his forties."

"It's not uncommon for a werewolf to outlive their predicted life expectancy. It happens quite frequently." Ginny blinked; after not seeing the old Hermione for almost two years, it was quite a shock to the system to have her rear her bushy head twice in less than a minute. _Perhaps getting Hermione to come Saturday will be more beneficial to her than I thought._

"I wasn't aware of that," Ginny lied, shaking her head in mock confusion. Maybe if she played dumb, Hermione would revert back to her know-it-all self and continue on in this vein.

"You would be, if you'd read over your Defense Against the Dark Arts text more often," she pointed out sourly, pursing her lips. Ginny had to fight to hold her laughter in.

"You remember that I was never very good at that particular subject- that was Harry's area of expertise." She smiled, and Hermione grinned.

"Yes, well. Neville was horrible as well, until we formed the DA. After that, he grew tremendously in that area." She smiled, and Ginny felt warmth flood over her. This was the first time in all of their sessions that Hermione had said her husband's name without bursting into tears. This was what made therapy worthwhile – helping people heal.

"Trust me, I remember," Ginny laughed.

"Actually, there was something I wanted to share with you," Hermione said hesitantly. Ginny waited patiently. "Alice asked me yesterday when her Daddy was coming home."

"And what did you tell her?"

"I told her that he wasn't coming home, and that he had gone to be with the angels who watched over her every day to keep her safe. I didn't even _feel_ like crying, Ginny! It was the most amazing feeling."

"That is a huge step in the right direction," she said, beaming at her friend. "It's okay to keep going with your life. That doesn't mean that you have to forget Neville in the process, either. Excellent, Hermione! That's wonderful news!" Hermione blushed under her friend's praise.

"I guess I just wasn't as stressed out this week," she said meekly, trying to downplay it.

"Stress isn't always what happens to us, Hermione. It's more of how we choose to deal with those things." Hermione stared at her with something akin to awe.

"You never fail to amaze me," she said, shaking her head. "It's no wonder you and Harry had such a perfect relationship. After the Muggles he had to live with, he needed someone like you, who would keep their cool in just about any situation, and listen to him the way he needed it." Ginny felt the heat rising to her cheeks.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Hermione's praise meant a lot to Ginny – she'd always looked up to Hermione, and had been secretly devastated to see how her husband's death had affected her. Of course, she'd been going through the same thing, so she understood completely. After their hour was over, Ginny walked Hermione to her Secretary's desk. "Have a good day, and I'll see you on Saturday." Hermione hugged her friend, then left.

"Why did that patient get a hug, when I didn't?" an amused voice drawled. Ginny turned in surprise to see Draco standing behind her, lounging against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "Is she paying you more?"

"Very funny," she said, refusing to smile. "Did you leave something in my office?" _Yeah,_ he thought. _My common sense._

"No, I was just speaking to your secretary," Ginny shot Violet a questioning look. "And she said that this is the time you usually break for lunch."

"Was there something else you needed to discuss?" she tried to sound calm – she didn't want to have to give up her lunch hour; it was the only time she had all day to herself, and she used it for much needed relaxation time.

"No," he said, arching an eyebrow at her. He could sense her hurry and wondered at it. "I was going to ask if you'd care to have lunch with me." Her surprise registered on her face before she could stop it, and he felt the warmth of satisfaction. He'd gotten a response out of her again. What he couldn't figure out was what his motives were in doing so – was he just doing it to provoke her? Yes, he decided. She'd become colder than he used to be, if that was humanly possible.

"Lunch with you?" she stammered. He nodded.

"You do _eat_, don't you?"

"Yes, I just don't usually have anything to do with my patients outside of their sessions," she said, recovering quickly.

"You do with Longbottom, don't you? I just saw her leave." She was vaguely impressed that he'd remembered Hermione's last name.

"That's different; she and I knew each other long before she became my patient."

"Well, you and I have known each other for a long time, too," he said, his eyes glittering mischievously. She gave him a small frown.

"Yes, but Hermione and I were friends, whereas you and I were not."

"Isn't there some sort of saying about putting your past behind you?" he asked, mirroring her frown.

"You're not going to give up on this anytime soon, are you?" she asked, ignoring her secretary's interested looks. He shook his head.

"No, I'm not." She threw her hands up in exasperation. _So I can still get under her skin – excellent._

"Fine, I'll have lunch with you." She turned towards the stairs and paused when he didn't move to follow her. "Aren't you coming?"

"Potter, I'm not going to eat inside this wretched place on a day like today," he said, nicking his head towards the window. Ginny looked outside and saw the brilliant sunshine – it had been a lovely, mild week so far. She sighed and squared her shoulders resolutely.

"Where to, then?" He grinned at her. It wasn't until she was seated in a booth at the Three Broomsticks that she began to wonder what he was up to. She looked over her menu briefly, then replaced it on the table, and folded her hands in her lap. When she looked up at him, he was watching her. "Is there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"Other than for the pleasure of your company?" She nodded curtly, hardly believing that his words were sincere. "No."

"Is that so," she murmured, putting her elbow on the table. She rested her chin on her fist and raised an eyebrow at him. "And why would my company be pleasurable to you all of a sudden?"

"I just thought it might be nice for you to share a meal with a charming man for once," he said, smirking at her. Despite her reservations, she gave him a small smile. "Since you're around loonies all day, I thought it might be more pleasant to spend some time with someone who's in their right mind."

"In case you haven't noticed, Draco," she said silkily. "You have become one of those loonies." He grinned.

"I'm a loony, then?" He nodded to himself in silent congratulations for making her smile.

"Certifiable." She smiled and looked up as the waitress approached their table. "A pumpkin juice and the fruit bowl for me, please." He eyed her curiously, then turned his eyes to the waitress as well, who looked surprised to see him.

"The usual." She nodded and hurried off. Ginny raised an eyebrow at him.

"I get the feeling that this is a frequent haunt of yours."

"Is this the beginning of a conversation, or a free session?"

"There's no such thing as a free session," she said, her eyes twinkling.

"Really," he murmured. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "So. What do you do for fun?"

"I spend time with my daughter." She nodded her thanks to the waitress as she sat a glass of iced pumpkin juice in front of her. The woman hurried off, shooting furtive glances at Draco as she went. Ginny turned interested eyes to him. "Is there a reason she keeps looking at you as though you're a hippogriff on a rampage?"

"She's an ex lover," he said nonchalantly, taking a drink from the mug in front of him. He waited for her gasp of surprise, but none came. She just nodded.

"That would explain it. Bad breakup, I suppose?"

"As if there were any other kind of breakup," he said sounding highly amused.

"Touché," she said, shaking her head as she smiled. She took a drink of her juice and leaned back in the booth, closing her eyes for a moment. She moved her head around slowly, trying to ease some of the tension in her neck. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring intently at her. "Is something wrong?"

"I was just wondering how you manage all of the stress that's heaped on you several hours a day. Do you see a therapist as well?"

"The therapist with a therapist," she mused, smiling again. Draco grinned before he could stop himself. Her smiles were becoming addictive; it was fun to think he could help create them. "No. I suppose you could say that my mother is my therapist."

"What about patient confidentiality?"

"I don't discuss my patients with anyone else," she said firmly. "I speak to my mother about my own shortcomings."

"Shortcomings?" he drawled softly. He rested his elbows on the table. "I find it hard to believe that you have any shortcomings."

"As charming as that sounds, it isn't true. Everyone has shortcomings. Whether or not we keep them well hidden is the issue."

"How true," he said, eyeing her thoughtfully. "And if I may I ask, what do you think your shortcomings might be?"

"I'm familiar enough with my own shortcomings to name them, if that's what you're asking," she said, sitting her glass on the table. "But I see no reason to bore you with them."

"I asked, didn't I? I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to bore me with them."

"I find it interesting that you're asking about my negative aspects," she said, sounding amused.

"I find it interesting that you keep steering the conversation away from yourself," he pointed out.

"Fair enough. Yes, I do have a habit of doing that. I suppose my clinical nature crosses over into my everyday life, so to speak."

"I can see where that might happen. But you still haven't answered my question."

"Oh, alright," she said, waving her hand. She turned her eyes towards the ceiling and bit her lip as she thought. "I can be rather vague at times." She didn't meet his eyes. If she did, she knew she would burst out laughing. She could almost feel his frustration.

"I would never have guessed," he said dryly. "You don't seem the type of person who has any faults. At least, not on the surface. Your life seems perfect right now, with the exception of the whole war issue."

"The state of your life is nothing more than a reflection of your state of mind," she said, looking up as their food came. He blinked at her, and ignored his food as the waitress walked away, still shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

"That's a very poetic statement," he said, his voice belying his admiration. She shrugged and spread a napkin gently across her lap.

"It's the truth. A scatterbrained person isn't going to lead a neat and tidy life. I just tend to like a bit more order than most people do, because it's comforting to be predictable."

"You're a control freak," he said, picking up his fork. She arched an eyebrow.

"If you say so."

"If _I_ say so? You just said so yourself. I only put it into layman's terms."

"Alright, let's say I am a control freak, for the sake of argument," she said, picking up her own fork. "Isn't that a boon in my line of work?"

"A boon, but a burden as well," he said, chewing thoughtfully before he spoke again. "You said yourself that your work habits carry over into your personal life. That could be a hindrance in some aspects."

"Yes, it can be, and is," she said, lifting a piece of apple to her lips. Without really meaning to, he watched her teeth sink into the fruit. A tingling sensation began in his chest, and it frightened him. He turned his eyes guiltily back to his own food and forced himself to concentrate.

"I must tell you, I find you very ... for lack of a better word, intriguing." She looked up, silent questions in her eyes. "You are a walking conundrum."

"How so?"

"You provide a service that helps people heal, correct?"

"I like to think so."

"But you haven't begun the healing process yourself."

"I don't think you know enough about me to make that observation," she said with forced politeness.

"The hell I don't," he said softly. "Have you been on a single date since Potter died?" Her eyes welled up with tears of fury, and she removed the napkin from her lap. She dropped it on the table and stood.

"It was very nice having lunch with you, Mister Malfoy," she said, her hands trembling. "But I'm afraid I have a great deal of work to do." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Back inside the sanctity of her office, she burst into tears. How dare he? How dare he say _anything_ about Harry, when he hadn't even known him? She reached for the box of tissues on her desk and dabbed at her eyes with one. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths. When her heart rate had almost returned to normal, she pulled open one of her desk drawers.

Inside a small golden frame was a photograph of her once perfect little family. Harry was holding a smiling Lily on his shoulders, and had his arm wrapped around a laughing Ginny. Three of the happiest faces she'd ever seen smiled back up at her, and the Harry in the picture leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. She shoved the photograph back inside her drawer and closed it quickly as someone knocked. She wiped her eyes one final time and replaced the tissue box.

"Come in," she called, pulling out some parchment and two quills. She didn't look up as the door opened – her head was still muddled by the photo. She rarely took it out to look at it; it was just a comfort to know that Harry was only an arm's reach away whenever she needed to see him.

"I didn't mean to offend you," his voice was soft and gentle, and it surprised Ginny so much that she dropped her quill.

"It's quite alright," she said, regaining her composure, and bending over to fetch the quill. "Embarrassing, really. I can usually control my impulses a bit better than that."

"Perhaps you'll allow me to take you out to lunch again tomorrow, as a second chance?"

"A second chance at what, exactly?"

"Intelligent conversation, without me antagonizing you." She arched an eyebrow and couldn't help the smile that sprung to her lips.

"Is that humanly possible?"

"It will be difficult, but I think I can manage," he said, fighting his own grin. He didn't know why he should feel the need to apologize to her; Draco Malfoy never apologized to _anyone_. He'd certainly never told Natasha that he was sorry for anything. All he knew was that the moment she'd stormed off, he'd regretted what he'd said.

"Is intelligent conversation that hard to come by in your neck of the woods, that you would attempt it with a Weasley?"

"Potter," he said gently. Then, "Not that that's any better, of course."

"Of course not," she said, biting her lip to prevent her laughter. He was really trying, but she didn't know why. She wasn't going to question it to death; it was nice to have friends, even if they came from the unlikeliest of places.

There was another knock on her door, and it opened slightly. Draco blinked in surprise at his own mother, who was staring at him. He finally shook the clouds out of his head and helped her into the large plush chair before turning back to Ginny.

"Tomorrow then. I'll see you at home, Mother." Narcissa nodded and smiled indulgently at him, and waited for him to close the door before turning curious eyes to Ginny.

"Would it be too much to ask you what he was talking about?" Narcissa asked politely.

"Not at all," she said, smiling brightly. "He invited me to lunch tomorrow afternoon." Narcissa didn't look at all surprised.

"And did you accept?"

"Yes," she hesitated. "Does that upset you?"

"Hardly, my dear," the older lady graced her with a lovely smile that she'd never seen before. "I'm rather glad that he's attempting to make friends finally. He keeps himself locked up inside the Manor all day with that horrid woman, and it gets quite tiring, actually."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ginny said, shaking her head sympathetically. "So you aren't fond of Natasha, then?" The older lady's eyes widened slightly.

"He told you her name?"

"Yes," she said, realizing she was treading on cautious ground. She had to be careful not to reveal anything he'd told her.

"That's very interesting," she said thoughtfully. "And no, I'm not fond of her at all. That young lady wouldn't know proper etiquette if it smacked her upside the head." Ginny stifled a laugh.

"Well, perhaps we should begin our session," Ginny suggested, picking up her notes from their last session. She reviewed them quickly, then looked back up at Narcissa. "Is there anything in particular you want to start off with?"

"I had another dream," she said, almost shyly.

"Yes? Was it the same one you told me about last time?"

"Yes," she said, gazing at a spot on the wall somewhere behind Ginny. "And it was lovely."

"This man that you keep dreaming about – is he still living?" Narcissa nodded hesitantly. "Do you know where he lives?" Another nod. "Might I suggest that you contact him and ask him to tea?"

"That's not a proper thing for a lady to do. If he asked me, on the other hand, I'd be happy to accept."

"Mrs. Malfoy," she said, leaning forward slightly. "We can't leave all of the work up to Fate – she's sorely overworked. Sometimes she needs a little _push_. I see nothing improper about you asking an old friend over for tea."

"How did you know he's an old friend?" she asked, her eyes registering her surprise.

"You said something about it in one of our earlier sessions," she said gently. The truth was that she had a good inkling of who Narcissa was referring to, but refused to name names for fear of embarrassing the older woman.

"Well, perhaps I will. It's an idea that certainly merits more thought, at any rate."

"Are you hesitating because you think your friends will frown on him?"

"Oh, no," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's not them I'm worried about. I could really care less what those mindless automatons think of me, or my family. It's Draco I'm worried about."

"I'm sure he wouldn't object. From what I understand, the two of you are very close. I'm sure that as long as you're happy, he'll be happy for you."

"He is actually rather close to this man, actually. It's not so much that I'm worried about whether or not he'd approve."

"You're more worried about his relationship with this man changing?"

"Yes," she said, nodding. "How is it that you know what I'm thinking without me having to articulate it?"

"Educated guesses," Ginny said, smiling.

"I have missed his company," she said, sounding faraway again. An idea suddenly struck Ginny.

"Are you very familiar with Blaise Zabini?" she asked. Narcissa looked surprised, but nodded.

"Her parents and I went to school together."

"I'd like to invite you to my home for tea on Saturday, then," she said. Narcissa looked confused. "Blaise is going to be there and I believe she'd like to have all of her friends and family present."

"Well, that would be lovely, then. Would it be alright if I brought Draco with me? I very seldom go anywhere without him present." Ginny highly doubted that Draco would even want to look at Harry's former home, let alone set foot on the property, but she nodded anyway.

"That would be perfectly fine. And Natasha is more than welcome as well." Narcissa frowned.

"I had rather hoped that I might exclude her just this once. It would be nice to be able to speak to my son without having an attention hog in the background."

"Well, that's fine, too. Whatever makes you comfortable. I'm sure you're probably already familiar with my home at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." Narcissa's eyes widened.

"That's-"

"Yes. When Sirius died, it went to Harry, and when Harry died, it came to me."

"Is it still connected to the floo network?"

"Yes. Harry had it reconnected just before the war ended. He couldn't stand apparating everywhere, because it prevented our daughter from accompanying him."

"Your late husband sounds like he was a remarkable man. I can't tell you how sorry I am that my husband..." her voice faded, and Ginny gave her a sad smile.

"It's not your fault. You were not the one who killed him, and even if you had been there, you couldn't have helped anything. Please don't carry guilt around over that, I beg of you. I have never thought to blame you, and I know Harry wouldn't, either."

"Hope is the companion of power and the mother of success; for those of us who hope strongest have within us the gift of miracles," Narcissa recited softly. Ginny smiled, touched.

"That was incredibly beautiful. Who said it?"

"A muggle by the name of Sydney Bremer. I came across it in a book one day, but I don't think I truly realized its meaning until this moment."

"I'm very flattered that you shared it with me. I love hearing inspirational quotes like that."

"You are an inspiration yourself, child," she said, without a trace of condescension in her voice. "To be able to truly forgive someone for a crime so atrocious takes more than mettle. It takes heart as well."

"Perhaps I've no right to forgive at all," she mused quietly. "I have no right to judge anyone any more than the next person."

"You've every right. Your husband was stolen from you, and your daughter lost her father. You have more right than anyone else I know to pass judgement, especially on those who caused it to happen."

"Fate has an uncanny knack for putting you back into your place when you've outgrown your breeches." Narcissa chuckled, and Ginny felt a surge of warmth. It was the first time she'd heard such a happy sound escape the woman's lips.

"Well, I hope I'm not inflating your breeches when I say that you have helped me more than you could ever know. I feel almost like I'm a totally different woman than the one who walked into this office so long ago. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me."

"It isn't I who's done the work, Mrs. Malfoy. You did that all on your own. You're stronger than you think."

"Be that as it may, you have repeatedly picked me up and dusted me off, and lent a willing ear. Sometimes that's all a person needs to make it through the day."

"Thank you," Ginny said, blushing. She knew how to handle everything _except_ praise. She didn't expect it, and frankly, it made her uncomfortable. She glanced up at the clock. "It looks like it's that time again." Mrs. Malfoy stood and smiled at her.

"Until Saturday, then," she said. Ginny nodded, feeling pleasantly expectant about Saturday. She was going to invite Narcissa's 'dream man' and give fate that little _push_ that it needed. She opened the door and found herself standing face to face with Draco. They were so close that their noses were almost touching, and it startled the air right out of Ginny. She took a step backwards quickly and cast her eyes down.

"Why, Draco," Narcissa said pleasantly. "I thought you were going to meet me back at the Manor." He stared at Ginny for a moment, his heart beating wildly. He vaguely wondered why his stomach felt as though the bottom had dropped out of it.

"I was, Mother, but then I thought that it might be nice for us to have an afternoon alone together. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me to dinner and join me in a little light shopping?"

"That sounds lovely, darling. Oh," she said, looking at Ginny. "Mrs. Potter has invited me to her home for tea on Saturday. Would you mind very much going with me?" Draco turned interested eyes towards Ginny, who met his gaze unflinchingly. She wasn't showing anything other than polite interest, as was her habit to do.

"Oh? And where exactly _is_ home?" Suddenly allowing Narcissa to invite Draco seemed like a bad idea.

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It's a home that's been in my family for ages. Apparently when my cousin died, he left it to Harry, who was his Godson?" she looked at Ginny for confirmation.

"You are absolutely correct."

"And when Harry passed, naturally it fell to Mrs. Potter."

"Naturally," Draco said coolly, his silver eyes going cold.

"You needn't feel pressured to come," Ginny said quickly. "I will understand perfectly if you don't wish to, for obvious reasons."

"Nonsense," he said, his face unreadable. "My mother has asked me to escort her, and so I shall. Shall we be on our way, Mother?" He extended an elbow, and she placed her hand gently on his arm.

"Good day, Mrs. Potter."

"Good afternoon," Ginny said, nodding politely. She closed the door behind them and pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. What was she thinking, playing Cupid like this? Nothing good ever came of matchmaking; she remembered that well enough from trying to push Ron and Hermione together.

At any rate, it couldn't be helped now. She'd had her big idea and opened her even bigger mouth, and things were locked into place. All she had to do was invite Narcissa's male friend, and hope for the best.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Ginny made her way to her office Thursday morning with more trepidation than she normally felt for any of her patients. She was interested to see if Draco would be as cold as he had been yesterday after the mention of Harry's name, and wondered why he'd closed up so suddenly. Perhaps she could coax him into talking about Harry; she knew there had been more than enough bad blood between them since they'd met.

She entered her office and hung her cloak up on the hook, then sat down behind her desk. She was alone this morning, much to her relief. She waved her wand and conjured a cup of tea, and went about her morning ritual of adding the sugar and milk to it. When she had finished stirring and put her spoon delicately on the plate, she turned to look out the window.

There was a certain amount of comfort to be gained from ritual. She was a creature of habit, and she knew it. She was not displeased by this. She knew exactly what was going to happen next in her day, who would be coming to see her, when, and for how long. She knew precisely what time she would be going home. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, the only disruptions in her life were the unplanned, spontaneous events that peppered it occasionally.

Like Harry being murdered. She sighed. Everything came back to that eventually, didn't it? Of course, there was comfort to be found in that thought, too, if she knew where to look for it. Even thinking of Harry's death brought to the surface other, _better_, memories of him. She smiled to herself as she stared out across the grounds, not even noticing the sound of her office door creaking open.

"Ahem." She was so startled at hearing him clear his throat that she accidentally sloshed the tiniest bit of tea onto her lap. She ignored his stifled laughter and grabbed her wand.

_"Scourgify,"_ she muttered. The wet spot disappeared, and she sat her cup gingerly on the small plate beside her spoon. She took a small breath before tugging her eyes up to meet his, and forced a smile. "Good morning. I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

"Fancy that," he smirked. "Seeing as how you were so, er, _caught up_ in Wonderland?" She blinked at him.

"Wonderland?"

"You do _read,_ do you not? You know, Lewis Carroll, Wonderland? Bint by the name of Alice?"

"I'm familiar with the fairy tale, yes," she said, nodding. She took another sip of tea. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, a nice, stiff one, if you've got it." She blinked, and he rolled his eyes. "I'm _kidding_, Potter. Did you lose your sense of humor overnight?"

"No," she said softly. She sighed. "Actually, I must admit that I wasn't sure what kind of a mood you'd be in this morning." He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Is that right? And why is that, may I ask?"

"You seemed to shut down yesterday when your mother mentioned that my home once belonged to my husband."

"Did I?" He was playing with her, and she knew it.

"Why don't you tell me. Did you?" He watched her thoughtfully for a moment, then relaxed in the plush chair.

"I wouldn't use the phrase 'shut down,'" he said.

"What phrase would you use then?"

"I'd say that I more or less just tuned you out after that."

"Really? Why? Does hearing Harry's name bother you that much?"

"Potter's name doesn't bother me anymore," he said coldly, shrugging. She folded her hands together in her lap.

"Draco, it does no good to lie to me."

"And what makes you think I'm lying?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Your body language. The inflection you use when you say his name. The look of barely contained hatred on your face. If you're going to talk to me, that's fine, but I can't do my job effectively if you're not honest with me, or with yourself. By not being honest with me, you're compromising your integrity."

"Must you constantly spew this psychobabble at me?" he asked, wrinkling his nose distastefully. She didn't even blink.

"Do you remember how you told me yesterday that I was very good at steering the conversation away from myself?"

"Yes."

"You're an old pro at it yourself, as well."

"Is that what you think?"

"I know it."

"And how is that?"

"We've been speaking for five minutes, and you still haven't bothered to answer my questions."

"I thought you said I could talk about anything I wanted to in here," he pointed out, trying to mask the fact that he had been shaken by her observations. "And I don't want to talk about Potter."

"Fair enough. Is there something else on your mind, then?" Draco was awfully tempted to say _you_, but didn't want her to know that. The truth was that he'd been thinking about her nonstop since yesterday afternoon, and it had annoyed the hell out of him. All through his shopping excursion, all through dinner, and even in bed with Natasha – all he could think about was their conversation at lunch, and the fact that he'd stooped low enough to apologize to her.

"Of course there is," he snapped, not wanting to admit that he really hadn't anything else to talk about, and had only wanted to steer the topic away from Potter. He sat in silence for a moment, until he realized that she was waiting for him to continue. He pushed his lower lip out and released a sigh, feeling some of his energy leave him as he exhaled. "No, there isn't." She didn't look surprised; but then, he hadn't expected her to.

"That's a good start," she encouraged softly. "Even if you don't want to talk about my suggestion, it's a good start to admit that much to yourself." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, studying her intently.

"How is it that you can see both my mother and I in therapy like this, or outside of your office, for that matter – and be so damned civil to us?"

"Why would I not be?"

"For starters, you hate me. You _loathed _me, if I remember correctly. Your late husband felt the same way, or stronger. Your entire family has been looked down on by my family for years upon years! What makes you so damned forgiving?"

"Who am I to pass judgement on anyone else?" she was vaguely reminded of her conversation with his mother yesterday. "I'm not perfect. I've made mistakes, just the same as anyone else has."

"So you can just let go of your hatred, just like that?" he snapped his fingers.

"Would you rather I didn't? Would you rather I reverted back to my negative feelings towards your family?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly for his own tastes. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if what he was about to say was wise. "I want you to teach me how to do it." He couldn't have shocked her more if he'd have walked in wearing Dobby's old tea cozy.

"Teach you?"

"Teach me how _not_ to hate," he said passionately, his eyes glittering like liquid pools of mercury. "It's all I know how to do. I'm ready to let go of it. I'm ready to feel something else. Anything else."

"You don't just hate, Draco," she corrected him gently. "You love your mother."

"She's different, I have to love her."

"That's not true. You don't automatically have to love someone just because they're your parent."

"It's an unspoken rule," he disagreed.

"Did you love your father?" His eyes narrowed in thought, and he was silent for a moment.

"No, I suppose not." She nodded.

"Our life is made up by the choices we make on a daily basis. You're not defined by who you do and don't love, or whom you choose to be friends with. You can't choose who you love, though. It just happens. You know the old adage, 'The heart feels things the eyes cannot see, and knows what the mind cannot understand.'"

"I've never heard that before," he said quietly, his head drooping slightly. "But yeah, it makes sense."

"You couldn't force yourself to love someone that you didn't respect. Respect isn't just given; it has to be earned. Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Sort of."

"I'm saying that you're absolved of the guilt you've been carrying around all this time, because you didn't love your father. It was not something you had control over – he had the power, and he chose not to exercise it in that way."

"But everyone I've ever known would lose their respect for me if they realized that I followed a man I didn't hold in the highest of esteems."

"Actually, I think you'd be rather surprised at how many people already realize that you followed him because you had no other alternative." He looked up at her, and she was surprised to see the tortured look in his steely eyes.

"Oh," was all he could manage.

"You know, what lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us," she said quietly. "You have the strength in you, Draco. You always have. I've always admired that about you. You possess a kind of strength that keeps you from falling apart in front of people, no matter how bad things are inside. But you have to allow other people in, or you're going to self destruct."

"I've tried. Don't you think I've tried? Merlin knows I've let Natasha get closer to me than anyone else, until now." He froze. Had he really just said that out loud? She didn't seem to notice, and the sympathetic look on her face made him want to crawl into her lap and cry like a baby – only, Malfoys didn't cry.

"Humans are social by nature. People need people, Draco. It's as simple as that. You _need_ meaningful interaction with peers and family to maintain some semblance of normalcy. It's unhealthy to lock yourself away from the world and hide like you're doing."

"I can't let anyone get too close to me," he said, shaking his head. "Everyone who does winds up hurt somehow."

"I do hope you'll pardon my saying this, but you just sounded exactly like my husband." He looked up, startled.

"What?"

"Harry used to say that on a daily basis. As a matter of fact, he warned me before we even started dating that it was a very real possibility that I could wind up hurt or dead simply because of my association with him – not to mention what the risks were to his own life."

"And you still married him?" he asked incredulously.

"I loved him – how could I _not_ marry him? I would have cheated us both out of the happiest times of our lives; not to mention that I would not have my daughter if I hadn't trusted my gut. Loving someone takes a lot of courage, Draco. You have to be willing to make sacrifices for each other. You have to let that person in. I know how hard it is; trusting someone means giving them a certain degree of control over you – but you have to give them the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone is going to exploit you."

"Sweet mother of God," he whispered, rubbing his eyes with his hands. It felt as though she'd just reached into his mind and plucked out the very things that had been haunting him for the whole of his life.

"Don't limit yourself like this," she encouraged. "Open yourself up to someone – anyone. It can be as simple as saying hello to someone you've never met. It's a baby step – you're trusting them enough to say hello back. A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle." He glanced up at her and gave her a wry smile.

"Why do I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders?"

"It feels good to talk and get it out, doesn't it?"

"I never thought I'd say it, but I agree. It does. It's nice to talk to someone who isn't constantly judging me."

"I have no right to judge," she said, maintaining her earlier stance. "And I'm here to listen. What else am I good for?" she gave him a small smile.

"I only wish I could trust the people I've surrounded myself with."

"Don't you trust Natasha?"

"No."

"How can you have a working relationship with someone you don't trust? Relationships are built on trust."

"She was beautiful and she fawned over me. My mother likes her. What more can I ask for?" Ginny bit her lip, not wanting to let him hold onto a woman simply because he thought his mother liked her, when she didn't; but she didn't want to give away anything from another session.

"How long have you been engaged?"

"A year and a half."

"Why haven't you married her yet?" she asked softly. He rubbed his eyes again, and suddenly she was struck by the thought that he was more similar to Harry than either of them would have liked to admit. Neither one of them wanted to allow anyone to get close to them for fear of hurting a loved one. Neither of them opened their hearts to anyone very easily. They were both tortured by the same things.

"I suppose I've been procrastinating," he said flatly, raising his head to stare out the window behind her.

"What are you going to do if she gets tired of waiting and just leaves? Because that's a very real possibility. Women don't like to wait, and if my guesses about the type of women she is are right, she's already impatient." He gave her an amused look.

"Perhaps I should recommend you to Natasha," he smirked. _Yeah, she'd just love that, wouldn't she?_ He could almost hear the fight that would ensue. _("Darling, you should go and see my therapist, she works wonders." "You see a therapist?" "Yes, and she's made me feel like a new man." "Only loonies see therapists, Draco." "Well, she did say I was certifiable." "I will not marry a loony!")_ She eyed him with interest. The longer he stared out the window, the broader his smile became.

"Recommendation is the highest form of compliment," she said quietly, her voice breaking through his reverie. "And I do offer couples therapy as well." He looked surprised.

"You mean that if I could somehow get Natasha in here, you could fix us?"

"Not exactly," she disagreed, reaching for her teacup. She waved her wand and his silver mug appeared, steam rising from the brown liquid. He took it without stopping to ask how she'd known he'd needed it right then. "I can help the two of you fix it, hopefully."

"And what is 'it'?" He sipped at the coffee, and was not surprised to find it exactly the way he took it. _How funny_, he thought. _Natasha has been living with me for almost two years and she still doesn't know how I like my coffee._

"Your relationship," she said, noting the distracted look in his eyes. "I can't promise that even after my help it would work out, but I would certainly do everything within my power to help the two of you communicate and work things out."

"I'll think about it," he said noncommittally. She nodded.

"Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"This thing at your house on Saturday," he said, his long fingers curling around the silver mug. "Is it formal?"

"Oh, Merlin, no!" she said, smiling. "It's casual. Jeans, slacks – sweatpants, if you'd like – anything is fine. I wouldn't dream of asking anyone to dress up just to come to my house!" He repressed the urge to ask her if her green pants would be making an appearance.

"Will there be many people there?" She wasn't sure, but she thought she might have detected a note of trepidation in his voice.

"To be perfectly honest with you, I'm not sure. My brothers Ron and Fred will be there, as will my mother and Remus Lupin. Blaise Zabini and her family will be there as well." His eyebrows popped up.

"You're having tea with the Zabini family? And a _werewolf?_"

"Oh, and I almost forgot, Hermione will be there with her daughter, too." She nodded. "This is why told you yesterday that you needn't feel pressured to attend – I know that you didn't particularly care for a lot of the people who'll be there." She stopped for a moment and wondered with amusement how a small family dinner had turned into an engagement party.

"And how is it that my mother came to be invited to this little soirée?" he asked curiously.

"She's a good friend of Blaise's parents, is she not?" He nodded. "I'm sure that Blaise will want her friends and family present for this." He studied her carefully for a moment, and she could feel the blush rising in her cheeks at the thought of her _real_ motive for inviting Narcissa. He mistook her blush, and his eyes widened.

"Blaise is marrying into your family, isn't she?" Her eyes widened, and he knew he'd guessed right. "Mordred, Morgaine, and Nineve," he swore softly. "And the smarmy bint didn't even tell me!"

"I don't think she wants anyone to know until Saturday," she said, her cheeks still pink. He forced himself to ignore the tightening sensation in his chest at seeing her blush. It colored her cheeks brightly and accentuated the freckles that were sprinkled liberally across her nose.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," he promised. His stomach lurched. Since when had he become so polite and passive? Where was his sharp tongue and his ability to let the insults flow effortlessly from his lips? _Then again,_ he reasoned, _She has made me feel better, even if only for today. It's worth it to return a little kindness, isn't it?_

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we need to start wrapping this up," she said, glancing up at the enchanted clock. He gave her a strained smile.

'Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

"Actually, I do rather enjoy my job," she said, gracing him with a smile. It sent shock waves through him. "Helping people heal is the most satisfying thing you could ever imagine."

"You're a better person than me, then," he said, standing. "I couldn't stand to be locked into this office all day and listen to people whine. Then again, you do have me for company for an hour every day, so perhaps your job isn't as dismal as I thought." She snorted and tried to look angry.

"Some things never change," she said, shaking her head. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Then again, some things do." He bowed deeply, and a lock of flaxen hair fell across his forehead. "I'll be back for you at noon." She gave his retreating back an interested look. She'd never really given him a second thought after she'd married Harry, but he seemed to manage to find a way into the headlines, whether he wanted to or not. He'd gotten a load of negative press over his defection to Dumbledore's side during the middle of the war, and he'd provided valuable testimony to the Ministry that led to the capture of at least twenty Death Eaters – by her husband, of course.

She shut the door and went back to her desk. Harry had joked about Malfoy making his job easier, and she'd laughed with him. She'd never stopped to think about the kind of pressure that Malfoy might be under, or what a fragile state of mind that his actions might leave him in. She sighed as she sank into her chair and picked up her teacup.

Draco had called her a conundrum, but he was a puzzle as well. He was frightening and charming and scared and bold all at the same time – but then, Harry had been, too. Where Harry had been a light shining through the darkness, Draco had been the darkness encapsulating the light. They were opposite ends of the same spectrum. Harry seemed to carry hope around like a wellspring – it was always present, always flowing, and most of the time, contagious. Draco, on the other hand, had lived without hope for so long that she wondered if he even knew what it meant to hope.

She was truly grateful to be able to say that she had (successfully) put another case of animosity behind her and become somewhat friendly with a former enemy. They didn't have to be best friends or even very close for her to consider it a happy thing; she was happy with the simple fact that he didn't go out of his way to insult her any longer. And she wouldn't hesitate to become a friend, if he would allow it. She'd lost far too many of her own friends in the final battle against Voldemort and his risen army; friends were too precious of a commodity to pass up.

The rest of her morning passed at its regular leisurely pace, and before she realized it, it was time for lunch. Her stomach began growling insistently, and she laughed at herself. She began putting her notes into a file folder and replaced it in the cabinet where it belonged.

"You seem very adept at amusing yourself," a voice drawled from the doorway. Her heart jumped at the unexpected intrusion, and she laughed.

"And you seem very adept at entering people's offices unannounced," she quipped. He grinned.

"Touché," he said, bowing his head slightly. He held out his arm, and she put her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Shall we then?"

"Always the consummate gentleman, aren't you?" she asked, amused. He arched an eyebrow at her as they walked down the hallway, and tried to ignore the pointed looks that were aimed at them. She hadn't considered what a strange sight it might be to see a Malfoy and a Weasley out and about together.

"Not many woman appreciate a gentleman these days," he murmured, holding the door for her. She breezed through it and turned back to him. He proffered his arm again, and she took it without thinking.

"I think that's a gross overstatement," she said. "I haven't met a woman yet who didn't complain that her boyfriend or husband was _less_ gentlemanly than she would have liked. Besides, I don't think you're a gentleman, after all."

"Is that so?" a smile played at his lips.

"You're more chivalrous than gentlemanly. There's a bit of difference there, I think." He swallowed down the surprise at her words, and gave her a smile.

"It's a world of difference," he said, his stomach lurching pleasantly. They moved slowly down the sidewalk, enjoying the clear summer day. Ginny didn't realize that she'd let go of his arm, and automatically reached for his hand. She threaded her fingers through his, which took him by surprise. He didn't protest, though; it was an interesting feeling. He'd never held hands with someone before.

"Where are we going?" she asked distractedly. She smiled at a little girl chasing a puppy. He watched her with growing interest. He knew she hadn't realized that she was holding his hand, and the thought flashed vaguely through his mind that she must have held Potter's hand all the time, for her to do it so thoughtlessly. He didn't want her to hold his hand and be thinking of her late husband, but he didn't want to bring her attention to it and have her let go, either. Her hand was warm and soft, and it was all he could do to keep from rubbing his thumb across her knuckles to savor the smoothness of her skin.

"Draco?" she asked, turning her eyes to him. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs that had started to form, and lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he said, nodding. They stopped walking, and he pointed down to their hands. "Although I'm not sure if you'd want anyone else to see this." She looked down at their entwined fingers and gasped in surprise. She looked back up at him as she disentangled herself.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her cheeks turning scarlet. "It's habit. Harry and I used to hold hands everywhere, and whenever I walk with my brothers, we hold hands like that, too."

"I'm flattered that you felt comfortable enough with me to share such a gesture," he said honestly, realizing that it was a gesture of comfort. She didn't know why she should feel so at ease with him; after all, he'd done nothing but hex her husband every time he'd been given the opportunity. Still, it was nice to have a friend nearby, and he had been rather pleasant about it. He seemed very understanding, and he wasn't running away from her, which was always a good sign.

"So, where are we going?" He watched as her therapist's mask went back on, and sighed inwardly. She was harder to get close to than he would have originally suspected, although he knew that everyone had a breaking point. He was amazed at his own thoughts – hard to get close to? Was that what he was trying to do? No, she was his therapist, and more importantly, the first true _friend_ he'd ever come close to having.

"Right here seems nice enough," he said, pulling his wand out. A tiny crease appeared on her forehead as she frowned, and she eyed the grass below them. He picked up a pebble and murmured something as he pointed his wand, and a dark green blanket appeared in his hand. She watched as he spread it out on the grass, then waved his wand several more times. Two plates appeared alongside two crystal goblets and a picnic basket. She turned delighted eyes to him.

"A picnic! How lovely! I haven't been on a picnic since-" she stopped herself before saying Harry's name. "Well, I haven't been on a picnic in a long time." He nodded and motioned for her to sit down as he did the same. They sat facing each other, and she watched as he waved his wand and a pitcher appeared. He poured her pumpkin juice, then poured his own.

She had to give him credit; whoever had taught him his manners, they'd done an impeccable job. She wondered why he'd never been this well mannered at Hogwarts, then reasoned that his father had still been around at that time, and he probably hadn't wanted anyone to think he was weak. She lifted the crystal goblet to her lips and took a drink, unaware of his eyes on her as she did so.

Everything about her was so delicate and deliberate. Her pinky extended effortlessly as she drank. Her legs were tucked beneath her in the most ladylike fashion he'd ever seen. Below the hemline of her lime green skirt, he could see the tops of her knees, and for some reason he couldn't explain, the chaste view was making his heart speed up. He'd never met anyone like her before. She was sweet and kind and forgiving, and that made all the difference to him. She was the only person who'd been friendly to him since his defection – well, the only one who had been _honestly_ friendly, without wanting something in return.

"Are you looking forward to Saturday?" he asked politely. She smiled.

"I am. It's been a long time since my family has all been together in one place, and it's been even longer since I've seen Remus. He's a very good friend of the family, and I've really missed him. Right after-" she looked flustered. She didn't want to keep bringing Harry up to the man who had hated him so much. "Two years ago, he and I became very close. We used to have the most incredible late night chats, when neither one of us could sleep."

"He seems like an interesting fellow," he said, reaching for a sandwich. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged. "Just because I didn't like him in school doesn't mean I didn't think he wasn't interesting."

"He _is_ an interesting man. He's very intelligent. He's so... so..." she looked towards the heavens as she searched for the right word, and he smiled to himself. She was almost... _cute_ when she did that. "Philosophical."

"As in how?"

"As in, he can rattle off quotes off the top of his head."

"About?"

"About anything, really."

"Care to give me an example? Can you think of anything?"

"Well, he likes to discuss love an awful lot, since he's never been in love. Actually," the color rose high in her cheeks. "He asked me the same question you did – about what it feels like to be in love."

"He's never been in love either?" he tried to hide the surprise in his voice.

"Surely you didn't think you were the only one out there who'd never been in love, did you?" The look on his face told her he had thought that very thing. "It's rather difficult for a werewolf to find someone who's accepting."

"I never thought of that."

"I always wished that I could fall in love with him," she said, smiling wistfully. He blinked.

"Why?"

"Well, we were both lonely. He's a brilliant conversationalist. He's a wonderful man, all around. I'd love to have someone like him in my life. He deserves a woman who'd be good to him."

"Did you date him?"

"Oh, no," she said, laughing softly. "I don't think I'm quite intelligent enough for him. Besides, he looks at me like a daughter, and he's sort of a father figure to me now that-" her voice died, and he cleared his throat.

"Do you remember any of his quotes?"

"Oh! Yes, I do, actually. My favorite one is 'I would rather live and love where death is king, than have eternal life where love is not.'" He gave a low whistle.

"That's deep."

"Mmm Hmm." She chewed thoughtfully. They ate the rest of their meal in silence, and she watched as he lay on his back and stared up at the sky. His hands were folded beneath his head, and he looked totally at peace. He turned and caught her looking, but she didn't look away.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about how peaceful you look."

"And here I thought you were admiring my dashing good looks," he teased, turning his eyes back to the cloudless sky. She smiled.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this," she said, motioning towards the plates. "It's nice to have a friend."

"You consider me a friend?" he asked, propping himself up on his elbows to stare at her.

"Should I not?" she asked, frowning. "I didn't mean to offend you by saying it."

"No, you didn't," he protested quickly. "I was just... surprised, that's all. I never thought to be friends with a Weasley – Potter, I mean," he corrected himself. She smiled.

"Well, I understand you perfectly. I never thought to be friends with a Malfoy, either." He nodded. "But it's nice."

"I agree." She stood and brushed herself off, and he clambered gracefully to his feet. With a wave of his wand, the picnic things disappeared. She gave him another warm smile that made his breath catch in his throat.

"I have to be getting back. Thank you again for lunch, both yesterday and today. I've really enjoyed myself."

"Me as well," he said smoothly.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning, then." He nodded, and watched her walking away, a strange sensation pooling in his stomach. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone if they'd have had the gall to ask, but he was looking very forward to Saturday, indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Ginny sighed loudly. She'd forgotten to pick up the cake she'd ordered from the bakery, so she was in the kitchen, scrambling to make one of her own. Lily wasn't helping things along any, either. She was grabbing handfuls of flour and tossing them about, laughing gaily as she did so.

"Look, Mummy, it's snowing! _Wheee!"_ She turned with her arms in the air, and Ginny couldn't help but laugh at her.

"You are, without a doubt, the silliest child I have _ever_ had the pleasure to meet," she said, winking at Lily. She giggled. Molly bustled into the room and scooped her up.

"Ginny, darling," she panted. "The guests will start arriving shortly. I'm going to go and clean Lily up properly." Ginny wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a large white streak of flour in its wake. She nodded.

"Thank you, Mum. When the guests arrive, will you show them out to the patio?" Molly nodded and carried a very wriggly Lily upstairs to the bathroom.

Yesterday had passed in a flurry of planning and preparations. Draco had sent an owl saying that he'd have to cancel his appointment, because Natasha needed him to take her into Muggle London for something. Hermione didn't have appointments on Fridays, and Narcissa didn't, either. Ginny had only had two patients, and then she'd come home to help clean and prepare for the party.

Ron came in, eyed her suspiciously, and went to the fridge. He pulled out a butterbeer and took a long swig, still staring at her. She sighed in frustration as she cracked eggs against the side of the bowl.

"Is there a reason you keep giving me those dodgy looks?" she asked irritably. He blinked; it was unlike Ginny to snap at people like that.

"Is there a reason that you're baking a cake _without_ using magic?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. She paused with her spoon just above the bowl, then let it drop with a clatter on the countertop. When she burst into tears, he moved towards her and wrapped her in his arms.

"Oh, Ron!" she sobbed, angry with herself for ruining his big day. "When I started inviting all of these people over for today, I forgot what day it was." Realization washed over him.

"Harry's birthday," he said quietly. Her sobs racked her tiny frame, and he squeezed her closer. "You know, if this is too much for you, we can tell everyone to sod off when they get here." She laughed softly and shook her head. Ron always knew how to cheer her up.

"Thanks, Ron, but no. I think there would be a great many people who would take offense to that suggestion." She wiped her eyes, and effectively smudged flour beneath them.

"Like who?"

"Like Narcissa and Draco, and Blaise's parents, and Severus." Ron nearly dropped his bottle.

"You invited _the Malfoys _and _Professor Snape?_" He gaped at her, and she nodded.

"I have a good reason, I promise," she said, patting his hand. "I invited Narcissa and Severus, and Narcissa asked if she could bring Draco along."

"And you're... okay with this, then?" the concern in his voice touched her.

"Draco and I have had lunch together twice this week." She ignored the thunderstruck look she was getting from him. "He's actually very nice to talk to, and he's been very pleasant. I'd appreciate it if you could be civil to him, Ron. He's really going through a lot, just like his Mum."

"If he says anything nasty to you or Mum, or to Blaise..." his voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. She laughed.

"He won't, I promise. He even said he was interested in seeing Remus again." Ron gave her a skeptical look, but before he could answer, a pretty girl with brown hair waltzed into the kitchen and put her arms around him.

"I was wondering where you were," she said sweetly, kissing him gently. Ginny turned her back to them, feeling as though she was invading a private moment. Ron cleared his throat and she turned back around. "How are you doing today, Ginny?"

"I've been better," she said honestly. Blaise gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Do you need any help with anything?"

"Actually, it'd be wonderful if you could take that tray of scones out to the patio," she said, pointing a flour-covered finger towards a silver platter covered in confections. Blaise smiled and picked it up.

"They smell delicious! What kind of scones are they?"

"Peach with white chocolate." Ron grinned; she knew those were his favorite. She'd made them on many occasions for him and Harry while they stayed up late playing Wizard's chess. Ron followed Blaise out the door, and she was left alone again. She looked at the mess on the counter, and began to cry again. She cradled her face in her hands, wondering why she had forgotten the date this year. She _never_ forgot Harry's birthday. She bit her bottom lip to try and contain her tears, but it only served to bring them back to the surface with a vengeance.

She pulled her wand out of her apron pocket and waved it over the mess, muttering _"Evanesco!"_ The messy flour promptly disappeared, and her shoulders slumped. She pointed the wand tip at herself and muttered _"Scourgify!"_ She could feel the grit of the flour lift off of her, and sighed. She'd already gotten dressed; she knew that if she hadn't, she wouldn't have time to later. Her copper hair was pulled up at the sides and fastened with a set of black and green barrettes that Harry had bought her, and a sundress the color of the summer grass matched the green of the barrettes.

The sundress was something she'd purchased on a whim yesterday when she'd remembered the barrettes. It was by far the most daring thing she'd worn since she'd become a widow, and now she was second-guessing herself. It was too late. She could hear the guests beginning to arrive through the fireplace. She felt uneasy about the spaghetti straps and the plunging neckline that made her painfully aware of the fact that if she bent over, she would be exposing her breasts to everyone at the party. The skirt tickled her thighs as she moved; the hem of it was a good two inches above her knee.

She waved her wand and mixed another cake, then set it baking. She took several deep breaths and picked up a pitcher of iced tea to take to the patio. When she pushed the kitchen door open, she was standing face to face with Severus Snape. He was looking as grim as ever, but she gave him the warmest of smiles.

"I'm so glad you could come," she said. He arched an eyebrow. He knew a schemer when he saw one – not to mention that since she'd been Potter's wife and was Weasley's sister, he _knew_ she had to have picked a thing or two up from them. She pointed towards a screen door. "Everyone is gathering on the patio, if you'd like to step outside." He didn't say anything as he walked past her.

"Well, _he_ looked happy, didn't he?" She turned to see Hermione brushing soot off of Alice's shoulders. Alice ran to Ginny and hugged her leg, squealing with delight, and Ginny laughed. She knelt down to look the excited child in the eyes.

"Lily is waiting for you outside. She has a table all set up just for the two of you to have tea on. I hope you remembered to bring Susan." Alice held up a small doll that looked well loved. One eye was falling off, and the red yarn hair was straggly. Ginny smiled at her and reached for her hand as she stood up.

"Hermione, there's something I need to tell you before the rest of the visitors arrive," she said, pushing the screen door open. She led Alice to a small table, where Lily was already sitting with her favorite doll, Rose. She turned back to Hermione. "Narcissa and Draco Malfoy are both going to be here today as well." Hermione didn't look at all upset, which surprised Ginny.

"That doesn't bother me," she said. Ginny smiled.

"Good, I was worried. I don't want any of Ron's friends to leave when they see him. He's actually been rather pleasant lately." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but she was cut off.

"Hermione!" a gentle voice called. She turned and smiled as Remus Lupin made his way over to them. He smiled warmly and gave both of the girls tight hugs. He turned and searched the patio until he saw the two children playing at tea together, then turned back to their mothers. "Alice is growing so quickly! She looks exactly like you, you know." Hermione blushed, which Ginny watched with interest.

"How have you been, Remus?" Hermione asked softly. Ginny decided that this would be a good time to excuse herself, and offered a weak apology before going to place the pitcher of iced tea on the refreshment table. She looked around happily; Ron and Blaise were chatting with Blaise's parents. Hermione and Remus were talking. Alice and Lily were playing happily. Fred and her Mum were laughing at something. And there, sitting at a table alone, were Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy. Ginny blinked in surprise; when had Narcissa arrived? And where was-

"So tell me," a soft voice drawled in her ear. It sent shivers down her spine, which surprised her. She turned to see Draco at her side, looking at his mother and her conversational partner. "Is that the reason you invited my mother?" The amusement in his voice was obvious, and the color rose in her cheeks before she could stop it.

"Why would you ask me such a thing?" he turned curious eyes to her, then shrugged. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"My mother wouldn't like it if she knew you were playing Cupid. But then again," he said, eyeing the other partygoers, "It looks like this is a couples party."

"It's no such thing," she laughed.

"Really? There are three couples here, at least. Longbottom and Lupin," he said, gesturing to them. "Zabini and Weasley," he gestured to them. "And my mother and Severus." He pointed, and she pushed his hand down with a suppressed giggle.

"Don't point, it's rude!" He shot her an amused look, and she pulled her hand away from his. "I'm very happy that you were able to come. I missed seeing you yesterday." The moment the words left her lips, she grimaced. It was true; she _had_ missed him yesterday – but she hadn't meant to tell _him_ that. He arched an eyebrow at her, and his amused look faded into something she couldn't identify.

"Natasha had me run her into Muggle London to buy some ridiculous bauble – with _my_ money, of course," he said dryly. She bit her lip. She knew he was unhappy in the relationship, and she wanted to help. She didn't offer couples therapy again, though; she felt that this was not the proper place nor time for such an offer, no matter the good intentions behind it.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "Tea, coffee, or perhaps a butterbeer?" He shook his head.

"No, thank you." His eyes scanned the people present, then came to rest on the two little girls playing at tea. He gestured towards them. "Your daughter and Longbottom's?" she nodded.

"They're great friends. Alice and Lily get along famously. They rarely ever fight." She gave them an indulgent smile, and her daughter looked up at her.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asked. She blinked in surprise; she hadn't thought that he'd want to meet her – _Harry's_ – daughter. She nodded and began walking towards the girls. She stopped at their table and knelt down to address them; she always put herself on their level to speak to them. It made them feel important. She couldn't contain her surprise when Draco did the same.

"Alice, Lily, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Draco Malfoy." He smiled warmly at the girls and held out his hand. Lily put her tiny hand fearlessly in his and gazed at him intensely with her viridian eyes.

"It's nice to meet you, Mister Malfoy," she said politely. He grinned.

"You may call me Draco," he offered. She gave her mother a questioning look, and Ginny nodded slightly. Lily looked relieved.

"I'm Alice," the other girl said, sticking her hand out. If her friend wasn't afraid of the strange man, then she was determined to prove that she wasn't, either. He took her hand in his and forced himself to look serious.

"It's nice to meet you, Alice. What a lovely tea party you both have here." The girls beamed, and Lily's cheeks turned pink as she held out a cookie with her chubby hand. He took it and smiled graciously before standing up. "Thank you, very much." Ginny kissed Lily's forehead before standing and smiling at Draco.

"If I didn't know that my daughter was too young for such things, I'd say that she has a crush on you," she teased. To her surprise, his cheeks turned slightly pink. "Well, if you'll forgive me for rushing out on you, I have to go inside and get the food." She headed back towards the screen door.

"Do you need any help?" he offered. She hesitated, then smiled.

"Help would be lovely."

Narcissa watched with interest as her son interacted with the children. He'd never been especially good with little ones, and she wondered why he would voluntarily put himself in a situation to speak with one. Severus followed her gaze and smirked.

"Well, it looks like Ms. Potter has not only played matchmaker for us," his silky voice made her shiver, and she gave him a coquettish look. "But she has inadvertently played matchmaker for herself, as well."

"Draco is engaged to Natasha Krum," she said, her upper lip curling involuntarily. Snape gave her a rare smile.

"And your point is, Narcissa?"

"My point is that I cannot stand that girl, and I hope he has the good sense to see what's right in front of his face."

"You would not object to his dating the Potter widow?"

"Object to it? Severus," she said, giving him a level stare. "I would pay for their wedding without complaint." He chuckled. "There has been a marked difference in Draco this week. He's been more pleasant, more attentive, and more fun to be around, period. Until Natasha rears her ugly head – then he's back to the moody, depressed man he's been for so long."

"You know," he mused quietly. "It would only be fitting if we repaid Potter for her little scheme with one of our own." She watched as her son followed Ginny inside the house, then turned to look at him with interest.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

* * *

"Thank you for the help," she said, smiling sweetly at him. He nodded slightly, and watched as she bustled around the kitchen. He'd been attracted to her the moment they'd arrived. She looked so appealing standing there in that slip of a dress, and he'd had to fight to control his shudders. _They should outlaw dresses that short_, he thought.

"So how is Natasha?" she asked absentmindedly, removing the cake from the oven. She bent over and Draco felt the heat rising in his cheeks; her skirt moved up slightly and exposed creamy thighs. He turned away and looked at the pictures taped to the refrigerator.

"As nasty as ever," he said snidely. She turned surprised eyes to him, wondering at his remark, but didn't say anything. The party was meant to be fun and not one of her therapy sessions; she had to keep reminding herself.

"That's kind of sad to hear," she said honestly, peeling the lid off of a container of frosting. He shrugged nonchalantly and watched as she dipped the knife into the sweet confection, then began spreading it across the warm cake. It kept melting and dripping onto her fingers. Draco was sorely tempted to reach over and lick it off. He shook his head – where in the bloody hell were these thoughts coming from?

"Not really. She's just being herself," he leaned forward on the counter and rested his elbows on it. She stuck her index finger in her mouth and sucked some frosting off, and he jumped up as though he'd been burnt. She didn't seem to notice, and went about finishing her task.

"You could have brought her today, you know," she said, putting the lid back on the container. "No one would have minded. I would have liked to have met her."

"No, you wouldn't, either," he said, shaking his head. She arched an eyebrow at him and handed him a plate full of finger sandwiches. She grabbed one as well, and led him outside.

"Alright," she said, sitting the platter down. "I'll take your word for it, then." A small hand tugged at Draco's pants, and Ginny's mouth dropped open in surprise. He bent to look into the bright emerald eyes that gazed adoringly at him.

"Mister Draco, your Mummy wants to talk to you." He blinked, then smiled. He turned his head to look at his mother, who nodded curtly at him. He chucked the little girl gently under her chin with his index finger before standing and shooting an apologetic glance at Ginny. She watched with growing amazement as he sat down next to his mother, then shook her head and turned back to the task at hand. She waved her wand, and gentle strains of a piano filled the air.

* * *

"Good afternoon, Professor," he said, nodding at Snape. He was rewarded with a curt nod in return, then turned to his mother. "Was there something you wanted, Mother?"

"I just wanted to make sure that you weren't feeling too... out of sorts," she said delicately, glancing quickly at Snape. "With all of the people here that you don't get on with, I mean." He arched an eyebrow at her.

"I have no qualms with anyone here," he said.

"You don't?" she asked, the surprise evident in her voice. His lips curved into a smile.

"Absolutely not, Mother." He turned and searched the crowd of people for a copper head, and missed the knowing glance that his mother and former teacher exchanged. When his eyes fell on her, he noticed that she was talking to Lupin. He watched interestedly as she threw her head back and laughed, and put her hand affectionately on the man's shoulder. He felt a hot stab of jealousy at her obvious ease with the other man, and then wondered why he should feel that way. He'd never been jealous of anything – or anyone – in his entire life.

"Draco, darling, are you listening?" his mother's voice invaded his thoughts, and he turned his eyes back to her.

"I'm sorry Mother. What were you saying?"

"I was just saying that perhaps you should invited Ms. Potter to dinner at the Manor one night this week," she said innocently. His eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"And why should I do such a thing?"

"To repay her for her kindness in inviting us here today," she said, smiling indulgently at him. "I've already invited Severus out for dinner; perhaps she could attend on the same night?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Mother," he said, thinking of Natasha's reaction to another woman in the Manor. His mother seemed to read his thoughts.

"I could arrange for Natasha to be out of the way, I assure you." He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"What are you on about, Mother?"

"Whatever in the world are you talking about?"

"Why are you pushing so hard to get me to invite her over, and even arranging for Natasha to be gone?"

"I must admit, I've grown very fond of Ms. Potter," she said, seeking the girl out with her own eyes. "She's rather enchanting. Wouldn't you agree, Draco?"

"I suppose," he said cautiously.

"I don't know that she would come to dinner if I asked her – she always seems to think that I'm being put out by being friendly to her. Perhaps if _you_ asked her, though, she might accept more easily."

"You want me to ask her to dinner at the Manor?" he asked, sighing resignedly. She nodded. "Fine. When?"

"Tomorrow night would be lovely. And do tell her that it won't be a formal occasion, so she may dress as she is right now."

"No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "I mean, I'll pass the message on," he said smoothly. She nodded, and he stood. She watched with amusement as he made his way across the yard towards Ginny.

"Do you suppose that he'll be terribly angry with me, after he realizes what I'm doing?" she asked Snape, her eyes twinkling.

"Most likely," he said, arching an eyebrow. "But by that time, hopefully he'll have a wife and several red-headed brats to look after, and he'll forget all about it." She smiled brightly at him and was pleasantly surprised when he smiled back.

* * *

"It's so good to see you happy," Remus said, smiling warmly at Ginny. "You deserve some happiness in your life. I didn't think I'd see you laughing today, of all days." A shadow clouded Ginny's smiling features, and he was immediately sorry.

"Don't apologize," she said, shaking her head at his opening mouth. "To be perfectly honest, I had totally forgotten that today was... well, that today is _that _day."

"You forgot?" he asked, mildly surprised. He didn't speak his question, but he wondered what had her so distracted that she'd forgotten about Harry's birthday. Usually she spent the entire day at home alone with Lily, baking Harry a birthday cake and telling stories about his adventures.

"I haven't forgotten Harry, Remus, if that's what you're asking," she said softly, looking down. "That's an impossibility." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

"I know it is, sweeting," he said quietly. "I wasn't trying to say you'd forgotten about him. Come now, I didn't mean to upset you as bad as all that." He wiped a tear away from her cheek and gently forced her chin up with his forefinger. "Can you give me a smile, then?"

"Smiling is overrated," she said, laughing through her tears. He grinned and hugged her.

"There's the cynic I know and love."

"You're horrible," she said, smiling at him.

"I've been meaning to ask you since I arrived," he said, looking around to make sure no one was listening. He leaned in closer to her as though he was going to tell her a secret, and she instinctively did the same. "What in the world is Draco Malfoy doing here?"

"Oh!" she said, laughing. She clapped his shoulder gently with her hand. "He's a friend of mine." Remus' eyes widened slightly, and he looked towards the table where Draco sat with his mother and Severus Snape, then back to Ginny.

"He's a _friend?"_

"Yes. He's taken me to lunch twice this week, and he's been rather... pleasant." Remus studied her face thoughtfully for a moment, wondering if he hadn't just uncovered the distraction he'd been wondering about for the last few minutes.

"Oh, there you are!" Hermione's voice interrupted them. Ginny couldn't help but notice how Remus' cheeks were painted with a faint blush, and was not at all surprised to find Hermione blushing slightly as well.

"Were you looking for me, or for Remus?" Ginny asked, trying to hide the amusement in her voice. _How cute. Hermione and Remus are attracted to each other. _

"Remus, actually," she said, turning her eyes to him. The pink hue of his cheeks deepened.

"What have I done now?" Hermione laughed.

"Nothing. I was just thinking about the new developments in the Wolfsbane potion, and wondered if you would care to talk some politics with me."

"I'd be honored," he said, shooting a wink at Ginny. He held out his arm and Hermione threaded hers through it. As they began walking away, Ginny laughed softly to herself.

"Well, it looks like I was right after all," Draco's amused voice drawled from behind her. She turned and gave him a dazzling smile.

"I hate to say it, but you're three for three." He smirked triumphantly at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "Draco, there's not enough room out here for your ego; you're going to smother everyone." He looked surprised for a moment, then the laughter bubbled up and out, momentarily surprising all of the guests. Neither of them seemed to notice.

"Have you met everyone here?" she asked. Strange feelings washed over her at the sight of a genuinely happy Draco – wouldn't Harry have been surprised to see him laughing? She closed her eyes for a brief moment. She couldn't allow her to think about Harry while there were other people present; it wouldn't do to break down and cry in front of them.

"I've met them all before, at one time or another," he said, his throat suddenly going dry.

"Would you like to be properly introduced to them?" When he hesitated, she smiled. "You can say no if it makes you uncomfortable. I won't force you to mingle." The odd glimmer in her eyes was making him feel as though his stomach had just bottomed out.

"No, I'd love to be introduced properly." Her smile widened.

"Really?" he nodded. "Alright. Are you ready, then?" She touched her slender fingers to his arm, and warmth spread through his skin faster than summer lightning. She dropped her hand, making him feel strangely disappointed, as they headed towards her mother. Molly Weasley looked up with obvious surprise.

"Mother, I believe you remember my friend, Draco Malfoy?" Draco bowed his head slightly and smiled at the woman, making her eyes look as though they might pop out of her head at any moment.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco. My name is Molly."

"It's nice to meet you under somewhat lighter circumstances than our last meeting," he said gently. Ginny frowned; what were they talking about? Molly's expression softened, and she gave him a genuine smile.

"I agree. Have you met my son, Fred?" She indicated the tall man beside her. He eyed his sister strangely, then stuck out his hand. Draco shook it, and Fred smiled.

"There's a good chap; not afraid to shake a prankster's hand," he grinned. Ginny arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing. "I'm going to head over to the table and get some tea. Would you like some, Mum?" Molly nodded. Fred turned back to Draco. "Want to walk over there with me?" Draco was surprised at the offer, but nodded. Ginny put a hand on his arm gently to restrain him.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," she whispered hurriedly. He was touched by the concern evident on her face. "He's somewhat of a – no, he _is_ a chit. Don't eat or drink anything he gives you." He nodded and followed her brother to the food table.

"You seem somewhat different than I remember you at Hogwarts," Fred said casually, reaching for a paper cup. Draco grabbed one as well, and nodded at him.

"Thanks to your sister," he said. Fred gave him a puzzled look.

"What exactly are your intentions towards my sister?" he asked bluntly. Draco was caught off guard momentarily, then laughed.

"Friendship. That's all, I swear." Fred didn't look convinced. "I have a fiancée."

"If you say so," he said, shrugging. "But if you hurt my sister, I'll be forced to hunt you down and kill you." Draco felt his lips curling into a _very_ amused smirk.

"And what makes you think that your sister would even be interested in me?" he asked, making it clear with the tone of his voice that he did not think such a thing was possible.

"Are you kidding?" he asked incredulously. Draco shook his head. "Do you know what today is?"

"July thirty first?"

"Yeah. It's Harry's birthday," he whispered. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, and he shot a quick glance at Ginny. She was hugging Ron, and not paying any attention to them. "She usually locks herself away all day to be miserable about it."

"She looks fine to me," he said, turning his grey eyes back to Fred.

"That's my point entirely," Fred said, with an air of finality. Not sure he understood what had just transpired, Draco followed the redhead back to Ginny and her mother.

"Draco, I believe you know Ron. Ron, this is my _friend_ Draco," she said, giving her brother a pointed look. Ron nodded, indicating that he'd understood, and offered his hand. Malfoy took it and was pleased to note that Ron wasn't trying to crush his hand.

"Nice to have you here," Ron said quietly. Draco was surprised; he'd never thought that Potter's sidekick would welcome him into their fold.

"Nice to be here," he said. Blaise sauntered up to the group and embraced Draco.

"You cagey old dog," she teased, pulling away from him and wrapping her arms possessively around Ron. "I had no idea you'd be here! How have you been? And how is Natasha?"

"I've been good," he said, purposely avoiding the subject of Natasha. He didn't even want to think about her right now. "So, have you two set a date yet?" Ron turned narrowed eyes at Ginny, who put her hands up in the air defensively.

"I didn't tell, I swear! He guessed!"

"She didn't tell me," he said, confirming her story. Ron relaxed and Blaise laughed.

"It's alright. We haven't set a date yet, although it had better be in the next nine months," she said, giving Ron a pointed look. The comment sank in, and Draco gaped. "Close your mouth, Draco," she teased. "You look like a fish waiting for a hook."

"You're – you-" his voice died, and she laughed. Ron looked extremely proud. Ginny clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at him.

"Perhaps we'd better make our announcement?" she asked Ron. He nodded, and they moved towards the screen door. Ron tapped his wand to his throat and said, _"Sonorous."_

"Could I have everyone's attention?" his loud voice quieted everyone down immediately, and he cleared his throat. Blaise smiled adoringly at him, encouraging him to go on. "My sister has been kind enough to loan us her house for this evening for a very special announcement."

Draco turned to look at Ginny, and was surprised to catch her staring at him. She blushed and looked away, focusing on her brother. A strange sensation gripped him, although he couldn't figure out exactly what it was. He turned his eyes back to Ron.

"Blaise and I wanted to let all of our nearest and dearest know that we plan to invite you all to our wedding." A chorus of cheers and applause went up from the guests, but died down when Ron held up his hand. "However, you're _not_ going to be invited into the delivery room." It took mere moments for his words to sink in, but when they did, enthusiastic cheers went up from the crowd. Fred was catcalling, and Remus was whistling as well.

When Draco turned to look at Ginny, he was startled to find that she was gone. He scanned the guests for her, and saw her kneeling down beside Lily and Alice. He watched with fascination as she pointed to Ron and Blaise, then proceeded to tell the children what was going on. When Lily's emerald eyes lit up, he grinned. She took off at breakneck speed and practically jumped on Ron, who picked her up and swung her in the air. Alice followed suit, and soon Ron was smothered by two sets of tiny arms. He watched as Ginny pulled out her wand and cleaned off the girls' table, then set the chairs straight. She bustled about, cleaning and tidying things up. It was only when she went back inside that he realized what she was doing.

She was crying.

He followed her into the house silently and watched as she rested her elbows on the countertop. She'd obviously come in to get the congratulatory cake, because it was sitting next to her elbows. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed openly. Draco's heart twisted painfully inside his chest; her sobs were broken and deep, and he wished he could do something to help.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and touching his hand gently to her shoulder. She looked up in utter surprise, and he was taken aback. Her normally bright, caring eyes were full of pain and grief. She hastily tried wiping the tears away with the backs of her hands, but it did no good. Fresh tears kept falling in their place.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said, rolling her eyes at herself. "The last thing you needed to see was a weepy female," she forced a laugh, and it was so hollow that it made him wince.

"You're not bothering me a bit," he said, shaking his head. He reached for a napkin and handed it to her. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with it and sighed. The flow of her tears was slowing, which he took as a good sign.

"Well, thanks for not taking the mickey out of me, at any rate," she said, crumpling up the napkin and tossing it in the wastecan. He grinned. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. When he saw her surprised glance, he dropped his arm and cleared his throat.

"Why don't I help you carry this cake out there?" he asked finally. She nodded and smiled.

"Thank you, Draco." He got the distinct impression that she was thanking him for more than the cake, but didn't push the issue. He followed her out through the screen door, carefully balancing the cake on his arms. He sat the cake down on the table she'd indicated, and watched as she hugged her brother and her future sister-in-law.

The cake was cut and passed around, and everyone seemed to be settling into their seats to enjoy it. Ginny was still fussing over the food table, and Draco didn't want to sit alone. He examined the groups of people who were hobnobbing. Blaise, Ron, Fred, Molly, and Blaise's parents were sitting together. Hermione and Remus were sitting together. Severus and his mother were sitting together. He turned and saw the two little girls sitting at their little table, giggling as they ate their cake. Lily looked up and caught him looking at them, and her little cheeks turned pink.

And that was all it took.

Draco was enchanted. He took his cake and moved towards them, kneeling down beside their table. Alice's eyes widened and she giggled, but Lily gave him a serious look. He'd never been the object of such an obviously adoring look before, and it was touching him in ways that he never thought possible.

"May I sit with you lovely ladies?" he asked. Alice giggled again and nodded, then shot a pleading glance at her friend. Lily nodded solemnly, and he sat down on the concrete of the patio.

Narcissa was speechless. Draco had intentionally sought out the company of the two children for the second time that day, and this time _without_ Ginny by his side. He looked happy, too, which surprised her even more. He was laughing with the girls, talking animatedly to them. Their innocent, trusting eyes were focused intently on him, as though they were hanging on every word. When he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, she knew he must be talking about the love of his life – Quidditch.

Ginny finished slicing the cake and putting it on plates, and looked around to make sure everyone had gotten a piece. When her eyes fell on the children's table, her jaw dropped. Draco was sitting with the girls, talking and making animated gestures with his hands. There was a light in his eyes that she'd never seen before, and it was reflecting in the rapt faces of the two children watching him. She felt a hand on her arm and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Did you ever think you'd see such a thing?" Hermione marveled. Ginny shook her head, not trusting her voice enough to say anything. Emotion swelled up inside of her chest, and she felt tears stinging her eyes. Lily was staring at Draco with the same adoring look that she got whenever she looked at Harry's picture. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the sob that was trying to rip through to the surface, and Hermione wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Ginny buried her face in Hermione's shoulder for a moment before excusing herself to go inside to the loo.

Neither Molly nor Narcissa missed anything about the scene that was unfolding before them. Molly sighed; she was sure that as soon as their guests left, Ginny would be in a terrible state. She would probably cry herself hoarse as self-inflicted punishment for forgetting Harry's birthday, and she would totally miss what Molly could already see – Draco.

She watched with growing curiosity as Draco looked up in time to see a very emotional Ginny escape into the house. He stood abruptly, then bent and said something to the girls that made them titter, before turning and practically running into the house behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

_As always, thanks for reading. If you're tired of waiting for updates on this, feel free to click on my username and go to my webpage, where it is posted in its entirety, along with 30 other stories I've written. :)_

**Chapter 8**

Ginny ran up the stairs and into the second floor bathroom, not bothering to shut the door behind her. She turned the tap on in the sink and splashed her face with cold water, trying to stop the flow of tears that was threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn't shake the memory of the look on Lily's face as she spoke to Draco; she'd never seen her daughter look that way at anyone but Harry. What was happening? She knew she should be glad that Lily looked up to a male figure finally, but why did it have to be _him?_

She took several deep breaths and splashed her face one last time before turning the taps off and reaching for a towel. When her fingers brushed warm flesh, she turned in surprise to see Draco holding out a towel. Her face burned with embarrassment. She took the towel from him and pressed it to her face, willing herself to stop crying.

Draco had stood outside the door and listened to her cry. He couldn't deny his surprise over the entire scene today; this woman had been nothing but professionally aloof or friendly all week, and here she was, breaking down twice in the same day. He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure exactly what to do – he'd never had to deal with a weepy female before, and it unnerved him. When he heard her turn off the water, he'd stepped into the bathroom and handed her a towel. He knew she was embarrassed and he didn't want to prolong it; but on the other hand, he wanted to let her know that it was alright.

"I suppose that by now you must think that all I do is cry," she said, her voice muffled by the towel.

"Actually, I'm relieved to see you crying," he said. She peeked over the towel with curiosity.

"You are?"

"Yeah. I was beginning to think you were inhuman, not showing any emotion, or anything," he teased. She tried not to smile, but she couldn't help herself. She folded the towel and shook her head as she hung it on the rack, then turned to look at him.

"I'll bet you're tired of chasing me around today, aren't you?" she gave him a wry smile, then looked away. "It's just been a difficult day. Most days aren't tough to get through, you know?" She turned her cinnamon eyes to look at him, and he realized that she didn't think he knew what day it was. He nodded.

"I know. Some days are just harder to get through than others." He did understand; he had days like that as well – his father's birthday and his parents' anniversary were always difficult days for him. They weren't troublesome because he missed his father – they were hard because he'd hated his father so much.

"Can I ask you something?" He looked up at the curious note in her voice, and nodded. "What were you talking to the girls about?" He grinned.

"Quidditch."

"Ah," she said, arching an eyebrow. "That explains everything."

"I didn't realize that your daughter was such an avid Quidditch fan." He followed her from the bathroom as she began walking downstairs. She laughed softly.

"Yes, Quidditch is just about her favorite subject. Too bad for her that she's a Chudley Cannons fan," she shook her head, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You're a Quidditch fan, too?"

"Of course," she said, laughing. She pushed the screen door open, and a cool breeze caressed her face. "I couldn't have been married to-" she paused. "I couldn't have grown up in a house with six brothers and not adore Quidditch. I used to play, remember?"

"Vaguely," he said. He did remember now that she mentioned it; he also remembered making fun of her and her brother quite often and _very_ publicly.

"It's too bad that Ron has turned Lily into a Cannons fan, though," she lamented, smiling at her daughter. He grinned.

"Not a Cannons fan, I take it?"

"Not at all. I much prefer the Falcons." He blinked, then gaped. "What?"

"That's _my_ favorite team!" She smiled.

"Really? Well, I suppose you were probably attracted to their team motto."

"You mean, _'Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break some heads'_?"

"Sounds like you," she laughed.

"I would've figured you for a Holyhead fan," he said, shaking his head in wonderment.

"Ginny, a Holyhead fan?" Ron piped up from behind them. "That's a swear word in our house." She laughed.

"Did you think I'd be a fan of theirs just because they all happen to be female?" she asked, her eyes twinkling. Draco grinned, but didn't say anything.

"At least she's not a Magpie fan," Ron pointed out. Fred, who had been standing behind them, turned when he heard this.

"The Magpies are the best team in the history of the sport," he said, glaring at Ron. Ginny shot Draco an amused look, and he returned it.

"Is that so?" Ron asked, bristling.

"Yes, it's so, and you _know_ it! They're the most successful team the sport has ever seen!"

"And what is your basis for this assessment?" "Ron, they've won the British and Irish league Championship _thirty nine_ times!" Fred looked to Ginny. "Back me up, Gin." She held up her hands in protest.

"Are you kidding? I remember the last time I got involved in the middle of one of your Quidditch arguments! As a matter of fact, I think I still have the scar on my shoulder." She turned her back to them and peered over her shoulder, pointing to a faint white line. Draco stepped closer and squinted at it, then laughed.

"Alright, fine," Fred said, turning to the next available victim. "Draco." Draco looked startled at being addressed so familiarly. "You back me up. Tell this pillock that the Magpies are the best team in the whole ruddy league!"

"Sorry, but I have to concur with your sister. I'm a Falcons fan as well." Fred looked defeated and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Another Falcons fan!" Ginny winked at Draco, and he felt his stomach pitch forward pleasantly. "Why can't any of your friends be Cannons fans?" he asked Ginny.

"Excuse me, but I believe you've done enough damage to my daughter with your Cannons nonsense," she pointed out, smiling. "We've never had any agreements on Quidditch teams, even when Harry was alive. You know what a big Puddlemere fan he was." Fred and Ron exchanged glances when she said Harry's name calmly.

"Yeah, I remember," Ron said, sighing. "I also remember the big shouting matches we all had when we visited Mum and decided to talk about it." She laughed, and Fred grinned. Draco was trying not to feel left out, but when they talked about Potter, he couldn't help it. He was just about to excuse himself when Ron turned to him.

"Malfoy, we've been planning a trip out to the next Cannons match, since they play the Falcons, and we've got an extra ticket." Ginny's eyes widened and she shook her head wildly at him, but he took no notice.

"Yeah, and we've been waiting for Ginny to find someone to invite, but since she won't, what would you say to joining us?" Draco found that he wasn't surprised by their invitation; nothing the Weasleys did today was going to surprise him. He was actually quite pleased that they had included him.

"You just have an extra ticket lying around?" he asked.

"Well, we were waiting for Ginny to snag a boyfriend," she looked as though she wanted to strangle both of them. Her face, what he could see of it behind her hands, was beet red. "But since she insists on becoming an old spinster, why waste a perfectly good ticket?"

"Oh yeah, no pressure there," she said sarcastically. Draco laughed. "Guys, Draco has a fiancée that would most likely not want him to go with another wo-"

"I'd love to," he said, cutting her off. Fred grinned and Ron promptly excused himself.

"Excellent!" Fred clapped his shoulder. "We're going next Saturday. We're going to meet here, then go together. See you then. Bye, Gin," he called over his shoulder, sending her a wicked grin as he walked away.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, shaking her head. "I really think that most of the time, they walk around with their heads stuffed up their arses." He guffawed, and several people turned to give them curious looks. His mother caught his eye and nodded.

"Oh," he said, straightening up. "My Mother would like to invite you to dinner at the Manor tomorrow night." She blinked in surprise.

"Why would she do that?"

"She was actually rather insistent that you attend, as a means of repaying you for your kindness in inviting us here today."

"That was nothing," she said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "I enjoy having company over."

"I'd like it if you'd come," he said quietly. She felt the heat rising in her cheeks, and scolded herself silently. He isn't interested in you like that, he's just being polite. "From one Falcons fan to another." She smiled.

"Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse?" He grinned. "What about Lily? Is she invited as well?"

"Most certainly," he said, his eyes falling on the little girl. She looked up and smiled at him. Ginny bit her bottom lip, then smiled again.

"She seems quite taken with you."

"The feeling is mutual," he said, sending the child a wink. She blushed and giggled, then went back to playing with Alice. He chuckled.

"I just know when you leave, she'll be asking me tons of questions about you," she said, shaking her head.

"Why do you say that?"

"She's a very inquisitive little girl. She likes to know why things happen, who people are, things like that. She isn't the kind of girl who's satisfied with the bare minimum – leave no stone unturned, that's my Lily."

"Draco, I do hate to ask you to leave good company, but I'm rather tired. Could you escort me home?" Narcissa asked, approaching him. He blinked and looked behind her.

"Where's Professor Snape?"

"Severus had some more pressing matters to attend to," she said, not missing the disappointment that flooded her son's face.

"Thank you so much for coming," Ginny said, smiling at Narcissa.

"I can't thank you enough for inviting me. It has been a most wonderful evening." She turned back to her son, who held out his arm. She threaded her arm through his, and he shot Ginny an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry to be leaving in the middle of our conversation. Would it be alright if I flooed here to pick you up tomorrow night?" She was surprised at his offer; it sounded more like something a date might do.

"Er... sure," she said, nodding. "What time should I expect you?"

"Six thirty?" his mother suggested. "Casual dress, too. Nothing fancy." Ginny nodded, vaguely wondering if her idea of casual was the same as Narcissa's. "Goodbye," she said, moving with Draco inside the house. She waved, then turned back to the other guests.

* * *

"I disagree," Hermione said, her passion etched all over her face. "Lycanthropic rights is a very hot topic right now, and I would think that being a werewolf, you'd be interested in all of the latest news." Remus chuckled.

"All the lycanthropic rights in the world aren't going to change the way people think about werewolves, Hermione. All a law would do is force people to do things they don't want to do."

"So you're _against_ legislation?" she asked incredulously. Before he could answer, Alice had approached her mother.

"Mummy, do you know Mister Draco?" Remus' eyes widened slightly, and Hermione struggled to maintain a straight face. She nodded.

"I do indeed, darling."

"I told Lily you did, and she didn't believe me," Alice stuck out her lower lip in a pout, and Remus had to look away to hide his grin.

"Well, you can tell her that I do know him, and she can come ask me, if she likes." Alice nodded and ran back to the small table. Hermione turned to Remus and laughed. "Would you have ever believed in a million years that Draco Malfoy would have captured the hearts of two children like this?"

"I must admit, I'm rather surprised," he said, grinning. "Did you happen to notice that Ginny barely spoke to anyone else this evening while he was here?" Hermione nodded.

"I did," she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger thoughtfully. "I wonder if there isn't something starting between them."

"I would venture to say so," he mused, arching an eyebrow. "Did you see how he followed her into the house after she cut the cake?"

"She was very upset, Remus," she said, shaking her head slowly. "And besides, he has a fiancée; he vocalized that to Fred earlier, and I heard Ginny repeating it."

"It sounds like to me that they're both looking for excuses to not be interested in each other."

"That's a very interesting theory," she agreed, smiling brilliantly at him. His heart thudded wildly. "Maybe we should help them see the error of their ways?"

"Now, Hermione," he said, sitting up straighter. "You know me, I'm the straight-laced sort of fellow who wouldn't_ dare_ get involved in a crazy matchmaking scheme!" She narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Is that so? Is this the same Remus who was friends with James Potter and Sirius Black? Because I'm starting to wonder where his sense of adventure is." He grinned and his cheeks turned pink.

"It's been misplaced."

"Then I'll just have to help you find it."

* * *

"Hold still, poppet," Ginny said calmly. She was pulling a hairbrush through Lily's flaming hair in a vain attempt to control it. She finally gave up with a loud sigh, and Lily turned to look at her.

"You look so pretty Mummy," she said, her eyes wide. Ginny laughed, then leaned forward and hugged her daughter close.

"Thank you, sweeting," she said, resting her cheek atop Lily's head.

"Mummy, why do I have to get dressed up for dinner?" Ginny looked into her daughter's inquisitive emerald eyes.

"Because we're going to eat dinner with some very important people, and we need to look nice."

"Who?"

"Remember my friend Draco?" Lily's eyes grew as wide as saucers, and she nodded. "We're going to eat at his house with him and his Mum."

"Why can't I wear my Cannons shirt?" Lily asked, jumping off of Ginny's lap and running to her toy box. She pulled out a faded orange shirt, and Ginny laughed.

"What in the world is your nightshirt doing in your toy box?"

"I was playing with it this morning when my dolls played Quidditch." The look on her face was so serious that Ginny was finding it difficult to maintain a straight face.

"Well, you should put it back on your bed, so you'll know where it is come bedtime." She watched as her daughter trudged to her small bed and dropped the beloved shirt on her pillow.

"I wanna wear it."

"I'm sorry, darling, but you have to wear what I've put on you." Lily looked down at her purple jumper and soft gray skirt.

"Alright," the dejection in her voice almost made Ginny relent, but she was distracted by a voice calling up the stairs.

"Is anyone home?" The sound of Draco's voice both titillated her and frightened her. She laughed as Lily recognized his voice and bolted from the room at breakneck speed. She stepped into the hallway and bit down hard on her lip as she watched Draco squat to accept Lily's arms around his neck. He smiled at the little girl. "I've brought you something."

"What?" she squealed eagerly, clapping her hands. He chuckled, then handed her a dark blue parcel. She ripped into it and pulled out a small t-shirt with a falcon on the front. She frowned up at him. "This is a_ Falcons _shirt."

"Of course it is," he said, winking at her. Her chubby little cheeks promptly turned scarlet. "That's my favorite team. The next shirt I get you will be a Cannons shirt." Her eyes lit up and she planted an impetuous kiss on his cheek, then ran to show the shirt to her mother. Draco stood slowly and touched his fingers to the spot on his cheek where her kiss still made his skin tingle. He wasn't used to such overt gestures of affection.

"Look, Mum! Can I wear this to dinner? Mister Draco gave it to me, so it must be okay, right?" Ginny laughed at her daughter's eager face, and shook her head.

"You may wear it after dinner, if you like." Lily's face fell. "Please take it into your room." Lily trudged into her room, and Ginny tugged her eyes up to meet Draco's. He sucked in a deep breath – she was gorgeous. Her hair had been pulled up into a loose ponytail, and she was wearing a simple black dress – simple, but at the same time, very elegant. The hem of the dress stopped just below her knees, exposing her perfectly shaped legs. His heart began to race at the sight of her, but he couldn't put his finger on why.

"You look nice," she observed, trying to calm her rattled nerves. Why should she be nervous at the sight of him? He'd been here yesterday, and she hadn't been this jumpy. She chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to relax. "I can see I wasn't too far off with my own choices." She gestured to her simple dress, and he shook his head slowly, not trusting his voice. He was wearing a very elegant black shirt and matching pants, and a pair of shiny black dress shoes completed the ensemble.

"I'm ready, Mum!" Lily announced, bounding back into the hallway. "Can I sleep in my Falcons shirt?" Ginny smiled.

"Yes, just don't let Uncle Ron or Uncle Fred know that you have it." Lily clapped her hands and rocked eagerly on the balls of her feet, then turned to Draco.

"Does your Mummy like Quidditch like mine does?" she asked, grabbing hold of his hand. He led her downstairs to the fireplace as they spoke. Ginny followed silently, wondering at Lily's immediate attachment to Draco. What was so appealing about him that made her gaze so adoringly at him, or lavish him with such affection? Even Fred had a hard time coaxing hugs and kisses from her most of the time.

"Not really," he said, smiling. "She liked to watch me play when I was at Hogwarts, but she never got very excited about it."

"You played Quidditch at Hogwarts?" Lily asked eagerly. Ginny could sense trouble on the horizon and tried to interfere.

"Poppet, I'm sure Draco doesn't want to spend the entire evening telling old school stories." Draco gave her a curious look, and she mouthed the word that explained everything – _Harry._ Understanding washed over him, and he nodded.

"I don't mind," he said, shrugging. Her eyes widened slightly, but she gave no further indication of her surprise. Draco grabbed a handful of floo powder and hugged Lily to him as he said, "Malfoy Manor!" Ginny followed suit, and when she stepped out of the fireplace, she found herself standing in a very large, very handsomely decorated room. Lily was still holding onto Draco for dear life, and she was surprised to see how naturally he was carrying her, as though he'd been doing it all of his life. She followed quietly behind them as they spoke.

"Did you know my Daddy?" she asked.

"Yes, I did."

"Were you friends?" Ginny tensed, but remained silent. She had to admit that she was curious as to how he would explain his rivalry with Harry.

"No, we weren't," he said honestly. "Your Dad and I didn't really like each other in school."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't a very nice person," he said quietly, not daring to look at Ginny. If he had, he would have seen her trembling.

"You're nice now," Lily pointed out. He laughed softly.

"Not all of the time. I still have trouble. Your Mum is helping me learn how to be nice." Lily nodded wisely.

"My Mummy is good at that. She helps people feel better, don't you, Mum?" She turned her eyes to Ginny, who forced a smile and nodded.

"That's right, poppet," she said, her voice catching. Draco turned curious eyes to her, but she was already gaping at the room they'd just entered. She'd known that the Manor would be impressive, but she had obviously underestimated just how impressive. Before she could say anything, a vaguely familiar woman bounded up to Draco and planted a very loud kiss on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced at his mother, who was looking extremely flustered. He took a deep breath, then turned to Ginny.

"Ginny, this is Natasha."


	9. Chapter 9

_Bored of waiting for me to update? Feel free to click on my username and head on over to my personal website, where you can read the story in its entirety._

**Chapter Nine**

Natasha peered down her nose at Ginny, who managed to remain collected under the woman's scrutiny. Ginny extended a hand, but Natasha sneered at it before turning her attention back to Draco.

"Draco, where _have_ you been? Your mother sent me out on some errands, but I'd forgotten my purse, so I came back... and then I find your old Professor here and now – this," she said, eyeing Ginny and Lily with obvious distaste. The little girl wrinkled her nose and reached for her mother's hand.

"I went to pick Ginny and Lily up," he explained, pulling away from her. "They're going to be our guests this evening." Ginny thought she would die when Draco turned his back on Natasha to scoop Lily up in his arms. He turned his back on her and made his way to the dinner table, sitting Lily in the chair between he and his mother.

"Well, don't they know how to floo all by themselves?" Natasha asked icily, forcing a smile. Draco glared at her, but his mother spoke before him.

"Ms. Potter and her daughter are guests in my home, Natasha. I trust you remember how to behave around guests? If you don't, you may always excuse yourself to finish my errands." Natasha promptly closed her mouth and sat on Draco's left, pouting as she did so. "Ginny, darling, won't you take a seat next to Severus?"

"Thank you. You have a lovely home," she said, lowering herself gently next to Snape. Natasha snorted softly, but another icy glare from Draco shut her up.

"That's very kind of you, dear," Narcissa smiled. Ginny folded her hands in her lap and crossed her ankles together demurely. She was glad she'd chosen her black dress; Narcissa was impeccably dressed, and if she had gone any more casual, she was sure she would not have been dressed for the occasion – whatever that might be.

"How are you this evening, Professor Snape?" she asked, turning to her former teacher. His lips curled up in what she supposed was the nearest he could come to a smile.

"I am very well, thank you, Ms. Potter," he said quietly. Ginny was stunned; he'd never been so kind to anyone that she knew of.

"Are you a teacher?" Lily piped up, her eyes brightening. Snape nodded slowly, and Draco smiled at her.

"Professor Snape teaches potions at Hogwarts."

"Potions?" she looked at him with renewed interest. "Do you make the potion for Mister Remus? He told me a teacher at Hogwarts makes it. Is that you?" Ginny bit down on her lip, wondering if her daughter's enthusiasm would be too much for Snape. To her surprise, he remained perfectly calm.

"Yes, I am the one who makes the Wolfsbane potion. Do you know what it does, child?"

"It makes Mister Remus not hurt anybody when he's a werewolf." Ginny blinked; she'd never told Lily that! She made a mental note to talk to Remus and find out what he'd been telling her daughter. Snape peered at her with open curiosity, which was something else Ginny had never seen him do.

"What else do you know about potion making?" Draco eyed Snape thoughtfully, then turned his eyes back to Lily, who was frowning in concentration.

"I help my Mum make burn potions sometimes. They're orange," she said matter-of-factly. Snape's lips curled again.

"You're exactly right." He turned to Narcissa and gave her a strange look that only Draco caught.

"Did you teach my Daddy?" Lily asked curiously. Ginny covered her face with her hands, and Draco grinned.

"I did teach your father, and Draco as well."

"My Mum tells me that her and my Dad weren't very good making potions in school. She says her friend Miss Mione was really good. Is that true?"

"Your father wasn't terrible at it," Snape conceded finally, surprising Ginny enough to make her drop her hands back into her lap. "But your Mother was much better than he was. Miss Granger – Mione – she was possibly one of the more gifted students I've taught."

"But you didn't like them, did you?" Lily asked, disappointment in her voice. She was a very astute child, and she had learned from watching her mother how to read people's body language. Snape's stiffness made her painfully aware that he wasn't being totally honest with her. He turned to look at Ginny.

"Does she always ask this many questions?" he asked softly. She nodded and gave him an apologetic smile.

"It's something that I normally encourage," she said, arching an eyebrow at Lily. Lily promptly shut her mouth and smiled at Draco, who grinned back at her.

"So am I correct in assuming that you were married to Harry Potter?" Natasha asked, examining her nails lazily. Ginny nodded.

"Seeing as how he was the only Potter around, it kind of makes sense, doesn't it, Tosh?" Natasha winced. She hated Draco's pet name for her.

"I was just asking for clarification," she snapped. "I heard from my brother that he always wanted that bushy-haired girl he was friends with."

"May I inquire as to who your brother is?" Ginny asked politely.

"Viktor Krum," she said proudly. Draco rolled his eyes, and Ginny felt fairly certain that everyone had seen, except Natasha.

"Oh, how lovely," Ginny smiled. "But I'm afraid he was misinformed. Harry never held any interest in Hermione past friendship."

"Really, Tosh, that's not good dinner conversation," Draco said reproachfully. She ignored him and gave Ginny a catty grin.

"Actually, he _wasn't_ misinformed," she said, arching an eyebrow. "She told him that herself."

"Miss Krum," Ginny said sweetly. "I happen to know that is incorrect."

"And how would you know that?" Natasha asked angrily.

"Because I personally read over Hermione's letters, both to and from your brother, at her insistence." This shocked Natasha into silence, and she settled for just glaring at Ginny.

"Well, now that you've detracted your claws," Draco said to Natasha. His voice was full of amusement, and his mother was having difficulty hiding her smile. "Why don't we eat? The house elves have prepared a wonderful meal this evening."

"Your brother plays Quidditch," Lily said, looking at Natasha. Natasha ignored her and took a sip of wine.

"Yes, her older brother plays," Draco said, placing a steaming roll on Lily's plate for her. "Do you know what team he plays for?"

"No. He doesn't play for the Cannons." A laugh slipped from Draco's lips, and Ginny couldn't prevent one of her own. For a moment, their eyes met over the table. Natasha saw and interrupted furiously.

"As if he would sink so low as to play for those losers," she said viciously. She was the prompt recipient of three sets of very hard eyes. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued to nurse her wine.

"Natasha, you will refrain from insulting our guests, or I will be forced to ask you to leave the table," Narcissa said firmly. Natasha's eyes flew wide in surprise, and she turned to Draco, waiting for him to defend her to his mother, as was his custom to do. This time, however, no help came. He was too busy helping Lily fill her plate.

"Draco, she has a mother to do that," she said, forcing a smile. He turned and eyed her thoughtfully.

"Yes, she does, but seeing as how her mother is on the other side of the table, I thought I'd make myself useful." Narcissa beamed.

"Since when have you ever wanted to be around children?" she asked, baffled by his attention to the girl. "I thought you hated children, and that they got on your nerves!" Narcissa appeared to be cutting her food, but Draco knew she was listening intently. Ginny was either totally uninterested or a better actor than his mother, because she didn't look bothered in the least.

"She's different than other children," he said finally, watching Lily eat. She held herself with the same grace and poise as her mother, and he realized that the child was being a more appropriate dinner guest than his own fiancée.

"I would have to agree," a deep voice said, surprising them all. Professor Snape didn't look up as he spoke, but continued to cut his meat into tiny portions. "The child is quite fascinating. She seems older than she is."

"Thank you," Ginny said softly. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she went back to her dinner without looking at Natasha. The rest of dinner passed uneventfully, which was a relief to Ginny. Lily knew not to speak while she ate, and consequently remained silent. Narcissa occasionally interjected some casual talk about the weather and the headlines in the Daily Prophet, but nothing was discussed at length. When dinner was over, Narcissa suggested that they all head to the lounge for coffee and tea.

"Perhaps Lily and I should be going," Ginny suggested, rising from the table. She dropped her napkin on her plate and pushed her chair in. Narcissa frowned and shot a quick glance at a gloating Natasha.

"I won't hear of it," she said firmly, wrapping a thin arm around Ginny's shoulder. She guided her to the lounge, ignoring the way that Natasha had attached herself to Draco's arm. Lily walked beside Professor Snape. Draco watched as the child reached up and grabbed his hand with hers, and saw Professor Snape's head snap down to look at her.

Draco grinned to himself. Apparently it was a comfort mechanism for both the child and her mother. Snape pretended not to notice, but Draco noticed that he didn't pull his hand away. Natasha rubbed up against him, and he groaned inwardly, before pulling her into a side room and closing the door.

"Must you behave like a spoilt child?" he snapped. She blinked, then her eyes turned hard.

"As I recall, you've never had any complaints about my behavior before," she said icily.

"I have, I just never bothered to voice them to you," he said angrily. "What has gotten into you this evening? We have guests, Tosh!"

"Quit calling me that!" she said furiously. "You know I _hate_ it!" He looked stung.

"I didn't know you hated it."

"Well, I do! And maybe I'm acting this way because you've never paid attention to another female since we've been together -until tonight!"

"What are you talking about?"

"That woman! You can't keep your eyes off of her! And her little brat..." Draco stepped closer to her, his lips drawn in a tight line.

"Don't you _dare_ speak ill of that child," he hissed through clenched teeth. She took a step backwards, surprised. "She has done nothing wrong. She's had her father taken away from her. She's done nothing to deserve the life she's been handed, and you will not say another word about her."

"Draco, wait-" but it was too late; he was already out the door and down the hall. He strode into the lounge, ignoring the inquisitive look that he was getting from his mother, and sat down on the sofa beside Lily. When Natasha entered the room, her cold gaze fell on Draco. Sitting on the couch like that, they looked like a little family. Draco, the brat, and the bitch. The thought made her laugh, and everyone turned to look at her.

"Would you like a drink, darling?" Narcissa asked her son. He nodded and moved to the bar, and Ginny watched as he took out a crystal glass and poured liquid into it from a silver decanter. He sat back down on the couch, and Ginny winced from the smell of the liquid.

"Am I offending you with my drink?" he snapped. She shook her head and turned her face away while he downed the pungent stuff. She knew what it was; Harry had enjoyed the occasional glass himself when they went on their weekly date nights. It was something the Muggles called brandy.

She knew that Natasha had put him in this foul mood, and was saddened by it. He had successfully repressed the old, nasty Draco for close to a week, but being around this woman for mere hours had caused it to reappear. She glanced down at her daughter, who was shooting murderous glances at Natasha. For the most part, Natasha didn't seem to notice. Ginny rose from the couch and sat her teacup delicately on the bar, then smiled at Narcissa.

"I can't thank you enough for the wonderful dinner, and the chance to see this beautiful manor," she said. Lily understood what her mother was trying to do, and moved to her side. "But it's getting close to Lily's bedtime, and I believe she's rather anxious to get home." Lily's eyes lit up as Narcissa looked at her.

"Mister Draco gave me a new nightshirt," she whispered. Narcissa beamed at her and planted a soft kiss on her head, then turned to Ginny.

"It was lovely having you. I'm so happy you came. We must do this again soon." Ginny nodded, although she highly doubted that she would ever be coming back to Malfoy Manor. She realized as she was walking out the door that she wasn't sure how to get back to the fireplace that was connected to the floo network. Narcissa seemed to realize this at the same time, and looked pointedly at Draco.

"Draco, darling, would you please help Ginny find her way back to the fireplace?" Ginny held up a hand and shook her head.

"That isn't necessary," she said, not looking at Draco. "If you could just tell me where it is, I'm sure I can find it myself." Lily looked up at her. It wasn't like Ginny to refuse help when she needed it. Draco finished his second snifter of brandy and stood.

"It's not a problem," he said smoothly. "I'll show you where it is." She stiffened slightly, reminding herself that it wasn't the real Draco; it was a Draco under the influence of alcohol. She reached for Lily's hand, but before she could grab it, Lily had run to Professor Snape and flung her arms around his legs. He was visibly startled and hesitated for a moment before patting her back gently. She ran back to her mother and grabbed her hand tightly, and they followed Draco down the hall in silence.

"I'm glad you came tonight," he said quietly, as they reached the fireplace. She forced a smile and nodded.

"Thank you very much for having us. Lily," she said, looking down at the little girl. "Please thank our host for dinner." Draco winced; her voice had gone back to being professionally aloof – just when he'd gotten used to the idea of being her friend.

"Thank you for dinner Mister Malfoy," she said dutifully. He wasn't sure what hurt him more – the distanced, polite tone of her voice, or the betrayed look on her little face. Without waiting for him to say goodbye, they were gone.

Draco had never felt worse in his entire life.

* * *

The following week passed by in a blur for Ginny. Things didn't seem the same as they had before; something had changed, and she wasn't sure what it was. Her patients were still the same with the same problems and fears, with small exceptions here and there. Narcissa had a lot more positive things to talk about- like her twice-a-week dates with Professor Snape. Hermione was happier than she'd been in two years; she and Remus had started seeing each other regularly. It seemed that life was moving on for everyone – except Ginny.

Draco hadn't made any more appointments. He hadn't sent any owls, and he hadn't visited. She knew that even though the child didn't voice it, Lily was hurt beyond all belief. She still didn't understand her daughter's attachment to Draco, although she had to face facts. She missed him, too.

She'd only been seeing him as a patient for a week, but he'd grown on her tremendously. She'd loved the idea that she was helping him out of his cold shell and become comfortable with people, and life in general. The healing part of the job had been what had gotten her this far in the first place.

She sighed noisily and sipped her tea. Today was Friday, and she had one session left before she could go home and relax. Ron was taking Lily overnight; he had begged to keep her because Blaise had wanted to experience having a child before she actually gave birth to one. She'd finally agreed when Lily had begged her. She smiled to herself. The little girl was far too precious to be denied anything.

"You know, it seems like every time I see you in here, you're smiling at something," a soft voice ripped her from her reverie, and she jerked in surprise. Her tea splashed down the front of her uniform. She pointed her wand at it and muttered _"Scourgify!"_ before looking up in surprise.

"I'm sorry," she said, standing. "I haven't got time to chat, I have a patient coming in in a few minutes." He closed the door behind him and folded his arms across his chest.

"No, you don't."

"I don't?" she echoed flatly, her heart racing at top speed. He gave her a lopsided grin and shook his head.

"I just checked with your secretary. It seems that your last patient sent a cancellation owl, and she was on her way down here to tell you when I showed up. I volunteered to come and tell you."

"Oh," she said quietly, sitting back down. She began putting her things away carefully, deliberately taking her time. She hoped he would get bored and leave; for some reason, his standing there was making her nervous.

"I'm not leaving, Potter," he said simply. She looked up, startled. He shifted his weight and sighed. "Look, I came to apologize for Sunday night. Natasha was acting like a spoiled little brat, and I'm sorry that you and Lily were exposed to that sort of behavior. I'm also sorry that I was nasty afterwards." She accepted his apology quietly, with a slight nod of her head.

"Thank you for apologizing." She met his eye steadily, and he squirmed. She could tell he wanted to say more, but she wasn't going to push him. She stood and grabbed her cloak off of the hook. "Well, I'll be seeing you, then."

"Wait," he said. His hand shot out and grabbed her arm gently, and she gasped in surprise. "I... I wanted to make things up to you."

"Really, that's not necessary," she said, forcing a smile. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get home."

"I _do_ mind, damn it!" he said, frowning. "I came here and apologized to you, and it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for me to do! I thought you and I were becoming friends, and I don't want anything to ruin that! You're the first real friend I've ever had!" She looked deflated.

"I thought we were friends, too," she admitted. His expression softened, but he didn't release her arm.

"Well, we are," he said, his frown smoothing away. "Why don't we start acting like it?"

"What do you suggest?"

"Are you doing anything tonight?"

"No."

"Could I come and see Lily? I'd like to apologize to her as well."

"She's spending the night with Ron and Blaise." He was visibly disappointed.

"Well, that leaves you alone, then. Why don't we do something together?" he suggested. She gave him an apprehensive look.

"What does Natasha think about you being my friend?"

"She's visiting her brother. She's in some godforsaken town that I've never even been to."

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" He led her out of her office as she spoke.

"It's the best idea I've had all week – with the exception of the idea I had this morning of crawling to you on my hands and knees and begging you to forgive me." She giggled.

"I think I like that idea, too." He grinned, and her heart skipped a beat. He stepped into the fireplace and held his hand out to her. She slipped her hand into it and he hugged her close as they flooed back to Grimmauld Place. When they stepped out into the sitting room, she realized that he was still holding her. She looked up and held her breath; he was giving her a look that made her heart leap into her throat. In the next instant, though, it was gone, and he had released her.

"Why don't you go change, and we'll have a night on the town?"

"I don't know," she said uncertainly. He grinned.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You deserve a night out with an adult." She laughed.

"Alright," she said, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

"Draco," she laughed. "I need to know how to dress. Is it casual, funky, dressy, what?"

_"Funky?"_ he asked, arching an eyebrow. She blushed.

"It's a Muggle phrase."

"I know, I was just teasing you. If you must know, I'm taking you to my favorite club. We're going to dance and get pissed." She rolled her eyes playfully as she went upstairs.

"Men," she huffed. He laughed and sat down on her couch to wait for her. He was surprised when he heard her light steps coming down the stairs after only fifteen minutes – Natasha always took at least an hour to get ready, no matter where they were going or what they were doing.

"Alright, I'm as ready as I'll ever be," she laughed. He stood and turned, and his breath stuck in his throat. She was wearing those green pants again, and a black shirt that showed an obscene amount of cleavage. She caught his stare but misinterpreted it. "Is this not appropriate? I can change." She frowned and turned back towards the stairs, but he caught her arm.

"No, you're fine," he said, letting go of her. She smiled and looked relieved.

"Good," she said, following him to the fireplace. "I haven't been out at night in so long that I was afraid I'd be terribly out of fashion."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," he said, pulling her close. She was finding it very difficult to breathe as he grabbed a handful of floo powder and said something she couldn't hear. When they stepped out of the fireplace, they were in the corner of a very dimly lit club. The music was loud and throbbing, and it penetrated Ginny to the core. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the clear summer sky, and stars shone everywhere. She was amazed.

"This has always been a favorite haunt of mine," he yelled over the din. She smiled and leaned towards him.

"What is this place?"

"A dance club for wizards. Come on," he motioned for her to follow him and headed towards the bar. When they got there, he perched himself on a stool, and she took the one next to him. He ordered two drinks, and handed her one. She eyed it suspiciously. "Don't worry, it's not too bad. It's very mild and sweet." She took a tiny sip of it. She'd grown up with two natural-born pranksters and had learned through experience not to trust anyone.

"It is sweet," she agreed, taking another drink. She turned in surprise when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"Would you like to dance?" A tall, dark-haired man with blue eyes stood in front of her. She glanced at Draco, who was engaged in conversation with a pretty raven-haired witch. She turned and smiled at the man, and he held out his hand. He led her to the dance floor and they began to move to the music. The song was a fast, pumping beat, and she was grateful that he hadn't asked her for a slow dance. When the song was over, she thanked him and moved back towards the bar.

"Hey," he yelled, grabbing her wrist. She turned in surprise. "I didn't say I was done yet." She yanked on her arm, trying to pull it out of his grip, but he was holding her too tightly.

"Let me go," she said, her cheeks turning red.

"Make me," he said, smirking at her. Before she could reach for her wand, she felt someone behind her slide their arms around her waist. The man let go of her wrist and his eyes widened as he took a step backwards. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know." With that, he disappeared into the crowd. The arms released her, and she turned to face a very angry looking Draco.

"That guy," he seethed, grabbing her hand and leading her back to the bar. "He's trouble. He's been with just about every witch that comes in here, and not always with her permission." She exhaled slowly and squeezed his hand before sitting back down.

"Thank you for saving me." He shrugged and tried to dismiss her thanks, but he was secretly pleased that she was grateful. He'd saved Natasha like that once, and her reaction had been to freeze him out of her bed for a solid week, insisting that she could have stuck up for herself. Now, if only he could shake the feeling he'd gotten when he'd put his arms around her, he'd be fine.

"Would you like a refill?" he asked, pointing to her empty glass. She nodded, and he motioned to the barkeep, who filled both of their tumblers. She took a long drink, then looked over at him.

"Is this what you do all night when you come here? Just sit and drink, and rescue empty-headed twits from big, surly characters?" she teased. He laughed.

"I would hardly call you an empty-headed twit," he said, taking another drink. "But no, I generally just drink long enough to get loosened up, and then I dance."

"How long does it usually take?" she asked, watching the barkeep fill both of their glasses to the rim again.

"About five glasses, and then I'm good to go. Although it helps if I have six."

"Six it is, then," she said, raising her glass in a mock-toast. He arched an eyebrow but said nothing, and clinked his glass to hers. Several drinks later, they were both laughing hysterically at something he'd just said, but couldn't remember. She slapped his shoulder lightly and snorted.

"I think we're relaxed enough to dance now," he yelled, laughing. She wiped away the tears of laughter and nodded, then followed him onto the dance floor. He was moving without inhibition, and she shot him the most dazzling smile he'd seen from her yet. He didn't stop to think about what he was doing; he leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. She didn't hesitate before raising her arms to encircle his neck and kissing him back.

They stood in the middle of the dance floor like that for an entire minute before he realized what he'd done. He pulled away gently and stared at her. She was just as breathless as he was, and he realized with sudden clarity that she had kissed him back. She hadn't pushed him away; she'd returned his kiss! He sucked in a deep breath at the blush that was staining her cheeks, and she looked down at her feet. He tilted her chin up with his forefinger and searched her face.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I didn't mean to- I mean, you and Natasha- I mean-" he cut her off with another kiss, slower this time. She braced herself by resting her hands on his chest, and felt tiny chills as his hands caressed the small of her back. She pushed him away gently and met his confused eyes. "I don't think we should do this, Draco."

"You don't want me to-" she shook her head.

"I do, and that's why we shouldn't." He sighed. She was right. He had Natasha, and they were going to be married. He gave her a smile of understanding and put his arm around her shoulders as he led her back towards the fireplace.

"You know, you probably won't even remember this tomorrow," he said, grinning. "You're snookered." She giggled.

"You're right."

"Are we still on for Quidditch tomorrow?"

"Of course! Fred and Ron would kill me if you didn't show and they wasted a perfectly good ticket!" He nodded. "Do you really think neither of us will remember this tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly. He nodded, feeling a strange burning sensation in his stomach.

"We're both pretty snookered," he lied. He wasn't feeling the effects of the alcohol as much as he was sure she probably was; he was used to drinking this much. That wasn't to say that he didn't have a good buzz going, though.

"You're right," she said, smiling. She leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his cheek before turning to face the fireplace. Before he could lose his nerve, he spun her back around and crushed her to him, kissing her wildly before releasing her. She gave him a surprised look, but to his relief didn't appear to be angry.

"Goodnight," he said quietly. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Goodnight," she whispered, before disappearing into the darkness.


End file.
